The Academy
by the-black-drop
Summary: AU. FINAL CHAPTER! What would life have been like if the Fringies all met as college students at the FBI Training Academy in Quantico, Virginia? Peter/Olivia, featuring old favourites John and Charlie. Rated T for any language, sex and violence
1. Fresh Blood

**Hey everyone! It's me again, ready to bring you some Fringey goodness to get you through the too-long hiatus *grumble, grumble* Anyway, this is an AU story about the Fringies during their FBI training. It will involve old favourites Charlie and John as well as the usual gang, and I hope you like it! **

**Any reviews and comments are gratefully appreciated : )**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe or any of its characters/storylines. I also don't own any of the songs or lyrics referenced in any of the chapters**

**Thanks, and God bless : )**

Olivia didn't know what she was feeling. She was on the verge of laughing but at the same time her hands were shaking. She was going to Quantico. She was going right now. She had spent all day in the car with Rachael. The drive from Illinois to Virginia was over 700 miles long and they got up at 5am for the trip. Olivia looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was now 5:52 pm. She exhaled. As long as they got there by 7pm for the welcome speeches then she'd be fine. She started fiddling with the frays at the bottom of her Northwestern t-shirt, not knowing what to expect from her upcoming five months of FBI training.

Rachael noticed her fidgeting and laughed. "Liv, seriously? You're not even there yet and you're already driving yourself crazy."

"I'm not going crazy. The anticipation's making me a little antsy, that's all. Plus the long car ride. You know I'm no good at sitting around. Can I at least have another turn driving?"

"Liv, you just had your turn."

"But you're going to have to drive all the way back to Northwestern," Olivia countered. "You need to save your energy."

"Don't worry about me. I'm not going to make it back tonight anyway. I'll have to stop at a motel or something."

Olivia sent her sister a grateful smile. "You didn't have to drive me, you know. I could have caught a plane or something."

"Nah, you're a starving college student, remember? No money for plane tickets. Besides, how could I ever resist seeing the terror on your face when get your first glimpse of the academy?"

Olivia gave her a gentle slap on the arm. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Rach. I feel so much better now. And don't give me that crap about you wanting to save me money. We both know the real reason you're driving across three states to drop me off."

Rachael smiled playfully. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"You just want to see all those FBI boys working out on the front lawn. And don't you deny it."

Rachael laughed. "You know me too well, Liv. Just don't tell Greg," she joked.

"You really should ditch that guy, Rach. You know he's bad for you. You deserve so much better." Olivia said, genuinely concerned for her sister.

"Look, I know he's made some mistakes in the past, but I know I can change him. He says he really loves me. Whenever he does something bad he always makes up for it afterwards. He tries so hard, Liv. He really is a great guy. If you knew him like I do you'd see that."

Olivia was careful not to hurt her sister, but kept pushing. Who knew what kind of hell Rachael was going to go through with Greg now that she wasn't going to be around to protect her. "Rach, I'm not trying to upset you. I just want you to be careful, OK? And you know if you ever need anything while I'm in Quantico you can just call and I'll go over as soon as I can. I've always got your back. You know that, right?"

Rachael smiled warmly. "Yeah, I know. You were always the strong one. I know Mum's a bit nervous about you having such a dangerous job and everything, but I know you can handle it." She paused to keep her words steady. "And for what it's worth, I think Dad would be really proud of what you're doing. In fact, I'm sure of it."

Olivia's breath caught when Rachael said that. It had been along time since they had spoken about their father since his death. Rachael spoke up again to break the ice, "I'm really proud of you too, you know."

"Thanks, Rach. That means a lot to me."

The two young women fell into a pensive silence and Olivia turned up the radio, allowing the music to wash over her and calm her nerves.

_Hey,  
Don't write yourself off yet.  
It's only in your head you feel left out,  
Or looked down on.  
Just try your best,  
Try everything you can.  
And don't you worry what they tell themselves  
When you're away._

Hey,  
You know they're all the same.  
You know you're doing better on your own,  
So don't buy in.  
Live right now.  
Yeah, just be yourself.  
It doesn't matter if it's good enough  
For someone else.  


_It just takes some time,  
little girl, you're in the middle of the ride.  
Everything, everything will be just fine,  
Everything, everything will be alright._

"OH MY GOD, LIV!"

Olivia snapped out of her reverie. "What? What's wrong?" Then she looked up. Ahead of her was an enormous sign that read "WELCOME TO QUANTICO" Then another sign: "FBI TRAINING ACADEMY, 10 MILES". Rachael squealed beside her and she laughed out loud. They didn't make any attempt to contain themselves as they continued past the various signs to the Academy, counting down the miles as they went. Olivia was euphoric. She was finally here. At Quantico. The place that had filled her dreams every night that she was working her arse off in college. This was it.

When they entered the gates of the academy, they were both cheering and laughing like idiots, but neither of them cared. They drove through the grounds ecstatically, and Rachael was barely able to take her eyes off the groups of young men jogging beside the car. They joined a bunch of other cars that were dropping people off. All around them people were smiling, gathering bags, struggling to read maps and saying goodbye to their families.

Olivia and Rachael got out of the car and soaked up the atmosphere. Olivia was beaming and taking in the surroundings that she would be calling home until her training was over. Rachael was bouncing up and down. "Oh, Liv, this place is so cool!" She looked over to where some of the FBI trainees in workout gear had gathered to observe the fresh blood. She spotted a guy in the crowd. "Oh, he's cute. Liv, you better get me some decent phone numbers while you're staying here."

Olivia laughed. "Sure thing, Rach. I'm sure I could squeeze it in between my many very stressful and time-consuming classes, assignments and training sessions."

They started unloading Olivia's bags from the car. "Are you sure you can carry all of this?" Rachael asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I hiked through Washington with worse, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to help."

"I know, Rach. You're the best."

Rachael started to tear up. "Shit, Liv, you're making me cry."

Olivia chuckled and hugged her sister tightly, whispering into her hair. "Don't worry, Rach. I'm going to be fine, and you're going to be just fine without me."

"Easy for you to say," Rachael said. "It's only for a few months, right?"

"Yeah. And I'll be calling you all the time to find out what's going on with you, like when I first went to college."

"You better, coz I want to hear all about your awesome FBI adventures."

"I'll make you guys proud, I promise."

They pulled apart and Olivia gathered her bags. She gave Rachael one last kiss on the cheek and watched as her sister started the long drive back to Illinois, the threat of tears stinging her eyes.

When Rachael's car disappeared from view, she looked up to the buildings behind her. She was overwhelmed with every emotion her mind could muster. She felt elated. She felt terrified. She felt homesick. She felt strong, like she could breathe smoke. But more than anything, she felt already like this was where she was born to be.

She took a deep breath and smiled to herself, taking one last look at everyone saying goodbye as the sun set over the woods of Virginia. Then, with a simple step, she started the journey of a lifetime towards her dormitory, walking like she was soon to own the world.

**Thanks for reading! I will be sure to update soon : )**

**Ps. The song lyrics come from The Middle by Jimmy Eat World. I'm trying to include lots of music in the story to bring about some of that early 2000's nostalgia : )**


	2. Roommates

**Thanks so much for the reviews. This will probably be turning into a massively long story, because I'm really encouraged that people like it. Please keep reviewing, it gets me writing!**

**About the characters, I'm planning to include as many as I can. It's set in early 2002, when Olivia is 22 (turning 23). Charlie, John and Peter are about 24/25. Please let me know if you feel that I'm not quite getting any of the characters right! But please remember that these are younger versions **

Olivia walked through her new dormitory building, admiring the furnished halls. It was far cleaner than the beer-can-littered floors and poster-covered walls of Northwestern. It didn't even look like students lived here. The corridor looked like that of a hotel, with the walls covered in photographs of old presidents, J. Edgar Hoover and important moments in America's history. Olivia scanned her map until she reached her room, where she saw a note on the door: DUNHAM AND FRANCIS REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO THE OFFICE ON THE GROUND FLOOR.

Damn, she thought. Something must have been wrong with her room. She sighed and turned on her heels back towards the elevator. She paused in front of it. Nah, she thought, hardcore FBI agents would take the stairs. She put that idea in her head for later on. From now on, she decided, she was going to go above and beyond in everything she did. If a class started at 8am, she'd be there at 7:45. If an instructor asked for 10 push-ups, she'd give them 20. It wasn't enough to be good. She had to be the best.

She jogged down the stairs with all her bags, consulting her map once she reached the ground floor. Eventually she found the head office, and saw another recruit waiting at the desk. Nobody was behind the desk, so she went and stood beside him.

"There a problem with your room, too?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yeah, can you believe it? Our first freakin' day."

"I know, right? Have they talked to you about what's wrong?"

"No," he said, his voice gravelly but warm and reassuring. "The receptionist was just here but she went and called Administration to find out what's going on."

Olivia nodded and tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently. She checked her watch. "The orientation speech is in 45 minutes."

He laughed at her. "You're going?"

"You're not?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he said. "But then again, it's an important occasion and they need to welcome us to the academy, blah blah blah. I'm just glad to be here. I don't want to have to spend my first night at Quantico listening to speeches."

She smiled. "That's a fair point. Still, I want to see who all our lecturers are. I heard our course coordinator, Broyles, is also teaching Counter-Terrorism. Apparently he's good."

He looked stunned. "_Phillip_ Broyles?"

She checked her timetable. "Yeah, that's him. Why? Do you know him?"

"Nah, I just worked for him on a case once. He was working in New York a couple of years back and I helped his team raid a drug lab. I never actually talked to him or anything, but he was fierce. He runs a tight ship. Really good at his job, though, I'll give him that."

At this point, the receptionist came back into the office. She looked up to see Olivia there. "Oh, you must be Miss Dunham," she said. Olivia nodded.

The other trainee turned to her. "_You're_ Dunham? No, that can't be right."

Olivia was puzzled. "Wait…Are you Francis?"

The receptionist interrupted to clear up the confusion. "Look, we're really sorry about this. Usually we have same-sex roommates but in this case we have uneven numbers of men and women in the course. Every other room is full, but if either of you are uncomfortable with sharing a room, then you can tell me now and I'll find someone who wants to switch with you."

Olivia looked at her roommate. "It's fine with me if it's fine with you."

Francis chuckled wryly. "You got a boyfriend? Coz I don't want to be getting any death threats."

"He'll be fine with it. Have you got a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, and she's gonna be pissed. You mind if I give her a call?"

"Sure," Olivia said. "I understand."

Francis dialled a number into his phone and gave Olivia a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said as it was ringing. "If she kills anyone it's gonna be me." Olivia smiled slightly.

Somebody answered the phone, and Francis said "Hey babe, it's Charlie. You missing me yet?...Yeah, me too, babe. Listen, I need to talk to you about something. I'm at the head office right now with this receptionist saying that they screwed up our rooms…Yeah, I know…. Anyway, she's saying because of the numbers in the course I'll probably need to room with a girl instead of a guy. I just wanted to ask you if it was OK before I said anything…Sonia, I know it's not perfect…Uh, yeah, she's right here."

Charlie pulled the phone from his ear and said to Olivia, "She wants to talk to you." Olivia baulked, and Charlie laughed at her as she hesitantly took the phone from him.

"Uhh…Hello?" Olivia said.

"Hello. Who's this?" The voice on the other line seemed deathly tense. Charlie sent her a look of sympathy. She was about to answer 'Olive', but caught herself before she did. Olive was a child's name. Somehow she hadn't managed to lose it in high school or college, but now it had to go. Agent Olive Dunham just didn't sound right.

"This is Olivia Dunham. I'm a trainee at the academy like your boyfriend. We're trying to sort out the rooms right now."

"Look, I trust Charlie. But I can't necessarily trust who he's with," Sonia said.

"I understand. I have a boyfriend too, and I know when I call him he's not going to be too happy with this either."

"You do?"

"Yeah, back in Chicago. I'm sure he'd have similar feelings to you about me rooming with Charlie or any other guy here. I know how hard it is to trust people when you're in a long-distance relationship. But I can assure you that I have no interest in your boyfriend. I'm here to get my badge, nothing else," Olivia said.

"OK, well, I hope it stays that way. Good luck with you and your boyfriend."

"Thank you. Do you want me to put Charlie back on?"

"Yes, please."

Olivia handed the phone back to Charlie, who continued to reassure Sonia until they hung up. The receptionist handed them their keys and they headed back up the stairs to their room. "You must really care about her," Olivia said.

Charlie gave a warm smile. "I do. She means the world to me. I'm sorry if she was rude to you."

Olivia shook her head. "She wasn't. She's just scared. I totally get that."

"What about you?" Charlie asked. "Who's the lucky guy?"

A faraway look came over Olivia's face. "His name's Lucas. We were in the cadets program together at Northwestern."

"You were in the army?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I started training for the marines but dropped out. Figured law enforcement had more interesting opportunities. Besides, I was a military brat, so signing up was always something I _expected_ myself to do, but not what I wanted. Anyway, I did a double major in Criminology and Forensic Psychology, but Lucas stayed on to finish his training. He'll probably be deployed in a few months. Hopefully I'll get to see him a few times before he goes. You know how it is, though, since 9/11 they're sending everyone they can to Germany or the Middle East."

"Yeah, we pretty much picked the worst time to join the FBI. The pressure..."

"Were you still in New York when it happened?"

"Yeah." Charlie's voice went particularly deep and serious, his face set in stone. Olivia wondered whether she'd crossed a line. "Straight out of high school I joined Brooklyn P.D. I'd always wanted to move up into the D.E.A., but after the attacks my captain called me into his office and asked if I was interested in a training position at the FBI. He said they'd called him saying they needed more recruits and asked if he had any young cops who he thought could handle it."

"Wow," Olivia said. "That's so sudden."

"I'm grateful for the opportunity," he said earnestly. "I'm not grateful about how it happened. The fact of the matter is, the job isn't what it was a year ago. We're supposed to protect a world where a few guys on a plane can kill 3,000 people and destroy the Pentagon. I mean, how do we protect people, when terrorist cells have higher security clearances than we do? When we're not fully briefed on half the things that we're investigating? You know, when the truth, the truth is - we're obsolete."

They reached their room and stepped inside. It was the perfect size for the two of them. It had two beds, two desks, a closet, a kitchenette and a small bathroom. It looked pretty bland for now, but Olivia was already thinking up ways to make it seem like home. She dropped her bags on one of the beds and walked towards the window. She beckoned Charlie over when she saw the view they had over the great expanse of Virginia's woodlands. "Check this out," she said, opening the window. She climbed up and stepped through it.

"Dunham, what the hell are you doing?"

"Relax, Charlie," she said. "There's a ledge out here. Look." He walked over and poked his head through the window, seeing her sitting comfortably on a wide ledge that stuck out like a balcony all along the side of the building.

"Wow, that's awesome!" said Charlie, hopping onto the ledge. "Not a bad place to wake up to in the morning is it?" He asked, gesturing to the woods. "Can't complain about a view like that."

"It's beautiful," Olivia said, before biting her lip and asking, "Charlie, what was it like being a cop?"

"I loved it," he said. "It was challenging and every day was different. But I'm worried about some of these classes, you know? I can do all the practical and physical stuff, but I'm guessing the law lectures are gonna be insane."

Olivia smiled, grateful that someone else was worried. "I'm the opposite," she said. "I know the physical stuff from the marines, and I did all the theory at Northwestern, but the tactics of police work? No idea. And they say only half the class is going to pass the course."

"Yeah. I know this is a dream job and we've worked really hard for it, but do you ever feel…"

"Completely terrified?" Olivia asked. "All the time."

The two of them laughed. "That's a relief," Charlie said. "Tell you what, how about we make a deal. You're book smart, I'm street smart. If we give each other a hand with understanding the work then both of us should make the cut, right? What do you say?"

"It's a deal, Charlie."

They shook on it, both confident that they were going to be getting some help. Olivia suddenly realized how hungry she was. She pulled out a half-empty pack of chocolate that had stayed in her jacket pocket from the car ride. "Hey, you want some M&Ms?"

"Sure, thanks." He grabbed a few. "Why are they all yellow?"

"I don't eat the yellow ones. I know it's weird and they don't actually taste different to the others, but for some reason they remind me of medicine."

"Huh," he said, and they looked out to the woods again, falling into a comfortable silence. Olivia sat back against the brick wall and closed her eyes, breathing in the chill of the night air. In the distance, the town of Quantico was illuminated in the gentle glow of the moon and streetlamps. She and Charlie watched as people beneath them scurried between lectures, trained, or sat laughing and drinking coffee. The Academy was like its own little world, and this balcony was a perfect little dome to view everything from.

"I can't believe I'm actually here," Olivia said.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "Me too."

They smiled at each other, and then continued to observe their new kingdom. Neither of them new it yet, but this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

**Thank you! Please review right now! : )**


	3. Orientation

Olivia and Charlie made their way to Kennedy Hall for the Orientation speech. Hundreds of other trainees poured into the auditorium, and Olivia took in the faces around her. Part of her felt warm seeing the excitement of the unknown in their eyes, but then her ambitious side reminded her that this was her competition. As far as she was concerned, it was survival of the fittest. She also noticed that less than a third of the students were female. It didn't make a difference to her, but she wondered if some of the guys would get arrogant about it.

She started walking down the aisle towards the front, but Charlie gently tugged on her arm, keeping her stationary. "Hold on, Dunham," he said. "You're not a front row sitter, are you?"

Olivia got slightly defensive. "Well, not the front row. I'm not that much of a suck-up." She eventually gave in. "What's wrong with the third row?"

"Oh, you have so much to learn." Charlie chuckled and started pulling her back up the aisle. "The problem with the third row is that if it gets boring, you can't slip away."

"We're being lectured by FBI agents. I'm sure they're observant enough to catch anyone sneaking out."

"True, but if you're right next to the exit you might just escape before they get a good look at you. Come on."

The two of them made their way up to the very last row and Charlie insisted they take the seats way over in the corner near the door. "I can hardly see anything from way back here," Olivia said.

"Relax. Save your front row enthusiasm for the actual lectures. This is just orientation. Live a little, Dunham," he said; giving her a smile so sweet and mischievous that Olivia couldn't resist giving in.

"OK, _Francis_. I'll sit up the back with you."

"Eugh," Charlie said. "Don't call me Francis. I hate it - makes me sound British."

"Well then stop calling me Dunham," she countered.

"But it works for you."

"Yeah, maybe for my supervisors. Not for roommates. We are going to be living together for the next five months - even longer if we pass basic training."

"Alright, alright," Charlie conceded. "Let's go by first names. Agreed?"

"Agreed, Charlie."

By this point the auditorium was full, the sound of conversation a blaring and unintelligible scrabble. As soon as a man emerged from the crowd onto the stage, everything died down to a perfect silence. Olivia sat up in her seat, pulling a small notebook and pen from her pocket. Charlie fought hard to stop himself from laughing at her eagerness. She sent him a quick glare, but that just made it worse. Eventually, he couldn't hold it and let out a stifled chuckle before quickly silencing himself and faking an expression of pure, serious concentration that made Olivia laugh, too. It was a good thing they were in the back row.

The person on the stage was a tall, dark and rigid man who she could only guess was Broyles. He stepped up to the microphone, with a presence so powerful it was like he had command over the entire room. Olivia was captivated by his fortitude. She wanted that kind of presence – the kind where when you talked, people listened, and nobody questioned your strength.

"First things first - just a formality - this is the orientation speech for the Junior Federal Agents program. If you're in Forensics or Technician training then you're in the wrong place." At that comment, a dozen or so people scurried towards the door near Charlie and Olivia.

"Last chance to make a run for it," Charlie whispered. Olivia smiled and rolled her eyes.

"It's only an hour long," she said. "Toughen up, princess."

Charlie grasped his chest like he was in pain. "Ouch, Liv. I feel gutted."

Broyles silenced everyone with a piercing stare, and the commotion in the room died down again. Olivia couldn't decide whether to be honoured or terrified at the thought of studying under this man.

"First of all, my name is Special Agent Phillip Broyles and I'll be the course coordinator for the class of 2002. I'd like to welcome each and every one of you to the program," Broyles said, his voice deep and stable, and not without honesty. "You are all here because you deserve to be. That being said, less than half of you will graduate. Some of you will be dismissed, most will leave voluntarily. You are competing against each other for a chance to serve this country in a way no one else can. In whatever field you choose to work – whether it be Organised Crime, White Collar, Drug Trade, Human Trafficking or even Counter-Terrorism – you will be the only thing standing between deadly criminals and innocent civilians. If you work for the FBI, you must be prepared to die for the sake of a stranger, or to kill for one. This is not a job for the faint hearted, and we only want the best for our agency."

The rest of the room was enthralled by his words. It was like listening to a messenger from God. Broyles continued, "For that reason, you can expect the testing and training each of you will undergo within the next five months to be excruciating. Even the best of you will find it a nightmare. Every obstacle is designed to destroy you. Whether you allow it to break you down or build you up depends on what you're made of. You will be assessed on your academic capabilities, your physical endurance, your psychological resilience, your ability to work efficiently in teams and your capacity to make life or death decisions under unbearable pressure. Remember, you need to be a trainee that working agents _want_ on their team."

Broyles continued to speak about their classes and what was expected of them, as well as boring administrative stuff. Olivia looked around. She was fascinated by the reactions different people were having to his words. Some were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Others were casually laid back, like they thought it was all going to be easy. Others were eyeballing their competition, sizing everyone up. Then there were those few who, like Olivia, were sitting upright, impassioned by his descriptions of the career ahead of them, determination boldly blaring in their eyes. As the speech ended, applause erupted like thunder, and the conversations that filled the room detailed every emotion from terror to euphoric anticipation. One thing was certain: either way, nobody was going to be able to sleep tonight.

Charlie and Olivia headed back to their room, where they started unpacking their things. The closet was split into two sides between them, with just enough room for everything. Olivia went to put all her toiletries in the bathroom, and when she was done, Charlie went to do the same. "Oh thank God," he said from the bathroom.

"What?" Olivia asked.

Charlie laughed. "I'm just relieved there's actually space in the bathroom for my things. When I first moved in with Sonia, I counted nearly two dozen bottles in our shower, it was ridiculous. Why do you girls need all that stuff?"

"Well, I guess you're lucky I'm not particularly girly. I mean, I don't mind putting in a bit of effort if I'm going out, but my sister's the kind of girl who gets up an hour earlier than she has to just to straighten her hair every day before college. It drives me crazy."

"So you were in Northwestern together?"

"Yeah, I mean, for last year, anyway. She's 19. Before that she lived back in Boston with my Mum." Olivia rummaged through her bag and pulled out a photo of her and her sister. "Her name's Rachael."

Charlie looked at the photo warmly, holding it delicately in my hands. "It looks like you guys are really close," he said, handing it back to her as she set it down on her desk, alongside some other photos.

"Yeah, we are," Olivia said, wondering where Rachael was on the drive home to Illinois. "Have you got siblings?"

"Two brothers - both older, both cops."

"Wow. Are they jealous?"

"You have no idea," Charlie laughed wryly. "Nah, I mean, they both have great jobs in Brooklyn. Marcus works in gang crime and Sean's in the critical response unit. I still think they'd both kill me for this job, though, if they could."

"What about Sonia?" she asked. "How long have you been with her?"

"About three years now. She's studying education at Cornell. It's going to be hard being away from her every day. Hopefully calling every night will get us through the next few months. I don't want to lose her."

"I can imagine," Olivia said earnestly. "Lucas and I haven't been together for quite as long. We became great friends in cadets but we kind of danced around each other for a few years. It wasn't until last summer that we actually gave it a go. Still, between me coming here and him being in the marines, it's going to have to end sooner or later."

"I don't know, Liv," Charlie said reassuringly. "I think if what you have is really special and you're both willing to work hard at it, then it's possible it'll work out. If not, then it wasn't meant to be."

"I guess so," Olivia said. "So what's the plan for tonight? Have you been to Quantico yet?"

"I drove through it a bit on the way in. It's pretty tiny. The sign said the population was only about 600 when you take out all the FBI and DEA students and the military base."

"Seriously? Damn. I was hoping there'd actually be something to do on our last night of freedom."

"Well, I'm starving, so going over for some grub sounds like a good idea to me. Apparently there's a bus that goes in every half hour. Also, I bumped into this guy earlier that said a whole bunch of new students are heading over to this bar tonight to celebrate, if you're interested. Might be a good chance to meet people. It's called the Whitehorse."

"Sounds like fun," Olivia said, grabbing some of her nicer clothes from the closet. "I'll just get changed and then I'll be ready to go."

"Sure thing."

Olivia went to the bathroom to change and took a good look at herself in the mirror. She ran a hand through her long, blond hair, shaking it loose. She smiled to herself. This day had already been a whirlwind, and it wasn't even close to over. She applied some simple make-up and jewellery - nothing special. She didn't want to be giving any guys the wrong idea. When she was pleased with her appearance, she emerged from the bathroom in black jeans, strappy sandals, a simple white top that hung slightly off her shoulders and her favourite jacket. Charlie had changed into a long-sleeved shirt and was standing at the door.

"Look at you," he said. "You scrub up alright when you're out of that old Northwestern t-shirt."

"Gee thanks, Charlie," Olivia said. "Come on, we don't want to miss the bus."

And with that, they headed out into the chill of the night, unsure of what their last night of freedom would bring.

**Please, please, please keep reviewing! Love you : )**


	4. The Whitehorse

**Sorry about the delay! I had this massive assignment due this week for my Religious Terrorism class for uni *grumble, grumble* I'm basing what Olivia learns at the academy around what I study, because I too am hoping to go into that line of work. I'm in Australia, though, so I'm sure there are differences.**

**I hope the characters sound right – please let me know if they don't. Trying to write younger versions is a bit tricky, but I'm trying to bring out their ambition as well as their fun sides : ) I had a lot of trouble writing John for this chapter, so please let me know how it went. Thank you! **

The Whitehorse was already packed by the time they got there. There were a few people in uniform from the military base, but pretty much everyone else was in casual clothes. Out of the few bars in Quantico, this was apparently a favourite for FBI students. The place had a buzzing atmosphere to it, with mellow rock music just audible over all the conversation. The walls and floor were all brick, and strings of lights hung loosely from the ceiling. Olivia shrugged off her jacket and soaked up the vibe of the room.

_Baby's black balloon makes her fly  
I almost fell into that hole in your life  
And you're not thinking about tomorrow  
'Cause you were the same as me  
But on your knees…_

"Go find a place to sit and I'll get drinks," she said to Charlie. "What do you want?"

"Just a beer's fine."

"Any preference?"

"Surprise me," he said with a smile, and walked off to find a place for them.

Olivia pushed her way through the groups of people that clung to the small, high tables scattered through the room until she finally reached the bar. There was a group of people waiting so it was going to be a while before she was served. She saw that Charlie had gone upstairs on a balcony-like thing that stretched along each of the walls, almost like a second storey with a giant hole in the floor. She had to admit, it was a pretty cool bar.

_A thousand other boys could never reach you  
How could I have been the one?  
I saw the world spin beneath you  
And scatter like ice from the spoon…_

"Hey," a voice said beside her. She turned to see a young man, just a few years older than her, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Hey," she said casually, though she was wary of his motives.

"So, are you at the Academy or the military base?"

"The Academy – Juniors program."

"Me too. It's my first night here, so I figured I'd see what little nightlife there was in Quantico before they unleash hell on us. Plus I thought it might be good to get to know some people. You met anyone interesting yet?"

"Uh, I'm here with my roommate. He's gone upstairs somewhere."

"He?"

"Yeah, there were uneven numbers of men and women so we got roomed together. It's not a big deal. We're in the same program and everything, so it's actually kind of convenient."

"You're lucky. I got stuck with a forensics guy. He's so annoying. Won't stop talking about his dissertation on how awesome blood spatter is."

"That's rough."

"I'm John Scott, by the way – from Baltimore," he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. She gave him a once over and took it.

"Olivia Dunham – Chicago."

"Chicago, huh? I used to live there when I was a kid. Were you always from Illinois?"

"Not originally, no. I was born in Jacksonville, but we moved around a lot. Eventually I went to boarding school in New York and my family settled in Boston. I was only in Chicago to study at Northwestern."

"Oh yeah? What did you major in?"

"Criminology and Forensic psych," Olivia said. "What about you? You seem like the type to have an army background."

He gave her a charming grin. "Marines. Good guess, though."

"Really? I did Marines cadets in college but didn't follow through. My Dad was in the Navy."

"I can see that in you," John said, looking her over slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got that whole protective, gutsy, Soldier's Daughter look about you," he said. "Hey, I may not have done psychology, but I've got some skills. I was a military brat, too - Airforce. When I was growing up, I was with plenty of girls like you."

Olivia smiled wryly, unimpressed by his comment. "Is that so?"

_You know the lies they always told you  
And the love you never knew  
What's the things they never showed you  
That swallowed the light from the sun  
Inside your room…_

"I don't mean anything by that," he said, covering his tracks. "What I mean to say is that I get it – the whole "duty" thing. Practically everyone I've met so far has someone in the family with a police or military background. I think it's just in our blood to serve the country and all that. So the real question is; how did you get sucked into this crazy FBI vortex? Did you choose to join, did they drag you, or did you just get lost on the way to college?"

"No, I've pretty much known I've wanted to do this since I was nine."

"Wow. That's dedication. I think when I was nine I wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Funny how things turn out, huh?"

_Comin' down the world turned over_

_And angels fall without you there  
And I go on as you get colder  
Or are you someone's prayer_

"What subjects are you taking?" he asked her as they edged closer to the bar.

"Well, we've got the compulsory ones – you know: physical training, law, counter-terrorism, and psych. For my electives I'm doing Operational Response and Human Trafficking. But I'm considering becoming a military prosecutor for a few years before I get into field work. What about you?"

"International Crime and Intelligence. I've got no idea where that's going to land me in a job this crazy, and with everything that's going on with terrorism these days you never know where they're going to send you. I spent a couple of months fighting in Tikrit but then the FBI made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Hell, anything to get out of a warzone, right?"

They were almost at the bar. "Let me buy you a drink, Dunham," John said casually with another friendly charm smile.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," she said, unable to stop herself from smiling back. "And why does everyone insist on calling me 'Dunham'?"

"It's just a quintessentially professional law-enforcement name," he said. "Mine just sounds juvenile. Plus, we just met, I wasn't sure if I'd push the whole first-name basis thing. You know, we'll probably end up as colleagues where we'd have to address each other using surnames anyway."

"I don't know about that, John," Olivia replied with playful sarcasm. "For us to be colleagues you'd have to actually pass."

"Ouch," John scoffed lightly. "And what makes you so sure you'll pass, Blondie?"

"Like I said, I've wanted this for a long time," Olivia said. "And call me Blondie one more time, I'd really like that."

John looked her in the eyes, playfully daring her. "Well, I guess we'll see who makes it in the end, won't we?"

"I guess we will," she said as a young man came to serve them. He was only a couple of years older than Olivia, but he seemed to be running the show. She was impressed by how he seemed so on top of everything despite the crowds.

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender.

"Ladies first," John said.

"Alright, then," the bartender said with a friendly smile. "Pick your poison, honey." Olivia cringed slightly at the title he'd given her, but decided he probably meant well by it.

"Uh, can I get a beer and a double whiskey, straight?"

"Sure thing," he said. "What's your label?"

"Dealer's choice."

"I'm guessing the beer's for you, not your roommate?" John asked.

"Wrong again," Olivia said. "What? I'm 22."

"How's your night so far, guys?" the bartender asked as he got the drinks.

"First night in Quantico, last night of freedom before training starts at the Academy... It's all a little crazy. You?"

"Ah, I've had worse. Crowd's annoying but it's good for business, which I guess falls into the category of 'Be careful what you wish for'. You FBI?"

"Trying to be."

"Well, good luck with that. We have a tradition here that if you fail the course all your drinks that night are free." 

"I won't fail. He might."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm sure neither of you will fail," the bartender said reassuringly. "But sorry man, if it comes down to the two of you, I think my money's on her to pass. It's a close call, though."

"Why would you say that?" Olivia asked.

"You look like you've got a genuine personal reason for taking the job. He looks like he's doing it for the thrill. But who knows, maybe I'm just saying that to try to impress a girl," he said with a charming smile. "Anyway, if either of you ever feel like a drink while you're in town, I'm here all night, every night. Feel free to stop by; I'll make you something special."

"Maybe I will. This place is really cool," Olivia said.

"Thanks. My friend owns it but I needed a job so I'm managing it for a while." He handed her the drinks. "There you go."

"Thanks, Peter," she said, handing over her money.

He looked puzzled that she knew his name. "Hold on a second. I'm not wearing a nametag. Crazy FBI ninja skills?"

"It's on that employee of the month photo behind you," she said with a smile, turning back to John. "Well, I'm off to find my roommate. It was good to meet you, John."

"Yeah, you too," John said as she walked away. "Hope to see you again, Blondie."

She simply threw a smile back at him and walked up the stairs to find Charlie. The walls were covered in really cool street-art style paintings – flowers, butterflies, smoky faces, apples… They were amazing. She eventually found Charlie sitting at a table in the corner with some other people.

"Hey, Liv," Charlie said as she approached.

"Sorry I took so long," she replied. "The queue was huge."

"Don't worry about it." He addressed the others sitting at the table. "Guys, this is my roommate Olivia. Liv, this is Astrid, Amy, Kent and Brandon." 

"Hi," Olivia said. "Are you all in Junior Agents too?"

"I am," Amy said. "So is Kent. We're next door to each other so we thought we'd come down and see what was around in Quantico."

"I'm doing Forensics," Astrid said.

"Computer Tech for me," said Brandon.

"Cool. So how do you like it all so far?"

"Well, I was fine until Broyles' speech," Kent said. "I mean I don't know about you guys in Forensics and Tech, but our course coordinator wants blood. And he's teaching one of our classes, too. You should see this guy, he's so spooky."

"Really? Wow," Astrid said. "Our CC was really nice. She just kind of talked about how accuracy and attention to detail was paramount because missing the tiniest clue could send the wrong guy to jail."

"Same sort of thing with the Techies," said Brandon. "No pressure."

"I guess it's worse for the Juniors coz we have the threat of being kicked out," Amy said.

"Well, you might be able to get a free beer or two out of it," Olivia replied. "I was just talking to the manager downstairs. He said that anyone who fails the course gets free drinks all night. It's tradition. They had the same thing at a local bar at my college during exam season. You just had to bring in your paper to prove it."

"Well, at least I'll be able to drown my sorrows for free," Charlie muttered.

"Hey," Olivia turned to him. "Nobody's failing. Especially not you. If we all just put the work in and keep our heads low, we'll be fine."

"It's hard, though," said Amy. "50% will fail."

"Yeah, but that means 50% are going to pass, too. It's like a glass half full thing. You don't know what side you're going to fall on. I'm just glad I made it in at all."

"Amen to that," said Kent, raising his glass and taking a giant swig.

The group of them hung out and talked until they were the last ones there. Peter the bartender eventually had to kick them out. It was for their own good, really, seeing as they didn't want to show up to their first day with a hang-over. It had been a great night. She'd made some new friends and settled into her new town. She'd been in Quantico for less than 24 hours, but something strong told Olivia that she was going to find a home here.

**Please review!**

**Btw, the Ghostbusters reference puts John's age at about 25/26. Also, Agent Kent was the guy who got his face covered in skin by touching that mysterious $2 bill in Ability. Amy Jessup and Brandon from Massive Dynamic were thrown in there just for fun. **

**Songs lyrics are from Black Balloon by the Goo Goo Dolls**

**The Whitehorse is referenced by Peter as a Thai restaurant in The Transformation, and is loosely based on Belvoir St Theatre's bar in Sydney, here are some pics: **./imgres?imgurl=.&imgrefurl=./events/nsw/sydney&usg=_htCEB1Ex0LnNPlkiNFEbHv3wUAE=&h=280&w=228&sz=14&hl=en&start=0&tbnid=DwYWd2Q1ACB8ZM:&tbnh=133&tbnw=108&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbelvoir%2Bst%2Btheatre%2Bbar%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rls%:en-au:IE-SearchBox%26rlz%3D1I7ACAW%26biw%3D1345%26bih%3D583%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=129&vpy=216&dur=290&hovh=224&hovw=182&tx=117&ty=96&ei=gwNVTP6rIoqivQOKm50Z&page=1&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:7,s:0

./imgres?imgurl=./1004/1431900039_%3Fv%3D0&imgrefurl=/photos/80942042%40N00/1431900039&usg=_2w7psJsWtn3Qjr_YW72a_IqK5lc=&h=341&w=500&sz=92&hl=en&start=0&tbnid=9MgCg64FFkVPGM:&tbnh=88&tbnw=130&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbelvoir%2Bst%2Btheatre%2Bbar%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rls%:en-au:IE-SearchBox%26rlz%3D1I7ACAW%26biw%3D1345%26bih%3D583%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=1134&vpy=283&dur=120&hovh=89&hovw=130&tx=71&ty=27&ei=gwNVTP6rIoqivQOKm50Z&page=1&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:0


	5. Welcome to Hell

**Hey guys, sorry this one took so long to get to you, but I hope you'll forgive me because it's HUGE!**

**Have a great day, God bless, : )**

When her alarm screeched at 7am, Olivia was instantly grateful she didn't drink as much as she could have last night. Charlie groaned in the bed across from her. "This is it," he mumbled. "Judgement Day."

Olivia rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she remembered what her mother would always do for her and her sister when they were having a bad day. "Come on," she said to Charlie. "I'll make you pancakes."

"Oh, you are so my favourite person today," he replied as she headed into the kitchen. She and Charlie had bought some simple supplies the day before, including lots of cereal and doughnuts. Olivia had learned in college that a handful of dry cereal was the perfect midnight snack and 24hr staple food. The only thing Charlie had ever learned about food while being a cop was that coffee tasted like dirty water and doughnuts were God's gift to humanity, not that he was stereotyping or anything.

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia and Charlie were sitting outside on the ledge in the morning sun with their coffee and pancakes, taking in their beautiful view.

"We ought to name this place," Charlie said. "Until now it's just been 'The Ledge'. It needs a cool comic book name or something. Like how Batman had the 'Bat-Cave'."

"Give me a break. Batman doesn't even have powers."

"Hey, I grew up in New York, which Gotham City is based on, so forgive me if I have a special childhood connection to the unfathomable legend that is Batman."

"Bruce Wayne was just a sad little rich boy with too much time on his hands. And he didn't even build his own technology."

"OK, that's true…" Charlie admitted. "But the Bat-Cave was cool!"

"That's true. And I agree - we should come up with a name for this place. I have a feeling it's going to become somewhat of a sanctuary over the next few months."

"You're probably right," Charlie said, his eyes lining the horizon. "So what's the schedule for today again?"

Olivia pulled her timetable out of her pocket. "We're both in Stream A so we have our compulsory classes together, but not our electives. Today at 8am, we've got FBI Law, then Counter-terrorism at 10, then lunch at 12…"

"Best time of the day," Charlie grinned.

"This is true. At 1pm, we have 1st Elective – so that's Operational Response for me and Drug Crime for you. At 3pm, we have a study block. Then at 5pm, we go to Little Hill Field for Physical Training, which goes until, and I quote, 'until the required tasks are satisfactorily completed.'"

"Which means we could be doing push-ups till 3am." Charlie replied. "Who knows, maybe Broyles was just trying to scare us. Maybe he was exaggerating, you know? Let's just wait and see."

Broyles hadn't been exaggerating. Not one bit. The pressure was on from the moment their first lecture started. Their Law lecturer's name was Sanford Harris, and Charlie and Olivia both agreed that their first impression of him was not a good one. He spoke patronisingly to his students, always undermining the entire class whenever anyone got a question wrong. The content was complicated and dense with legal jargon. Olivia knew some of it from her Criminology classes, but was feeling bad for Charlie. It was only their first class and he'd given them a 2000 word essay to write on the history of the FBI.

Their next class was Counter-Terrorism with Broyles. He was just as strict and demanding with his students as Harris, though she found that Broyles was far more level-headed and considerate of the students' knowledge. When a student asked him a question, he actually took the time to explain the work, but if a student came in late or without their books, he chastised and embarrassed them for not taking the class seriously. He too set an assignment, but it was substantially shorter than Harris' law essay: 1000 words on a terrorist organisation of their choice.

When lunch finally came around, the students literally ran to the cafeteria, bursting with horror stories to tell their peers. Charlie and Olivia met up with the group from the Whitehorse the night before: Kent, Amy, Astrid and Brandon. "So," Charlie said, once they all found seats. "We're gonna survive this, right?"

Kent merely groaned loudly in response, his head against the table. He drank WAY too much the night before. "Oh dear," Astrid murmured, shaking his shoulder and giving him a sloppy joe. "Here, eat something."

"Eugh," Kent said. "That looks like something a cat threw up."

"You want some M&Ms?" Olivia asked. "They might be a little better than the mystery meat for someone in your delicate state."

Kent took a handful. "Eugh…How come they're all yellow?"

"Don't ask," said Charlie. "Liv, do you carry those everywhere?"

"Pretty much. Listen, I don't know about you guys, but our classes have sucked so far. I think I could warm up to Broyles, but Harris is a massive pain in the ass."

"Ours were Ok. Kent and I are in Stream B, so we just had Forensic Psych with Henry Jacobsen," Amy said. "He's my favourite teacher already. And the work is actually really interesting."

"Well, my Wound Analysis lecture was pretty graphic," Astrid said. "I've seen some pretty gross stuff in my time, but some of the photos they showed us this morning were truly nauseating. I don't even know how I'm able to eat right now."

"That sounds intense. What's happening with you, Brandon?"

"Well, we're being introduced to all the computer programs the FBI has. It's awesome! I feel like I'm in the middle of a spy movie. They have satellites that can read newspapers from space, facial recognition software that tracks everywhere you go, technology that can listen in on any conversation just by having a phone nearby - "

"Hold on a second," Charlie interrupted. "Are you saying that if I just have my phone in my pocket and I'm talking to you right now, the FBI can still listen in on what we're saying, even if the phone's not calling anybody?"

"Totally! And also, they have this program that taps into - "

"Uh, that's enough, Brandon," Amy said. "I'd like to be able to sleep tonight."

"Come on," Olivia said. "We signed away our rights the minute we joined the Academy, remember? They can search our place, arrest us, or listen in on our phone calls all without a warrant. The normal rules don't apply to us. It sucks but it's a necessary cost of the job."

"Why the hell didn't I just become a mailman?" Charlie groaned.

Kent doubled over again, ready to be sick. Everyone else was grateful when Brandon took charge. "OK," he said. "Well, I'm going to get Mr Creosote here back to his room. I'll see you guys tomorrow, OK? Good luck with your classes."

When they left, Charlie just looked at the others. "We _are_ gonna survive this, right?"

With the expectations they'd seen already, and the approaching hell of Physical Training on the horizon, nobody could answer him.

Afterwards, Olivia had her first class ever in Operational Response, which she was really excited about. Operational Response Officers handled everything from hostage negation and riot control to bomb threats and chemical attacks. It sounded like a pretty interesting job, even though she wasn't sure that's what she wanted to do yet.

At 3pm, Olivia went to the library to get some work done on her assignments. The FBI library had six levels, with books on everything from how to interrogate child killers to how to dismantle a live bomb. She also noticed that on the top floor, all the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows, and there bean bags on the ground along each wall – a perfect place to catch some pre-lecture sleep. It just made the library that much cooler.

Olivia borrowed her books and went back to her room to change for Physical Training, arriving at Little Hill Field five minutes early. By that point, she'd heard plenty of horror stories about PT: the training was supposed to be brutal. She was the first to show up, and was waiting for everyone else to come along when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Hey, Blondie."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Olivia said, seeing John Scott from the Whitehorse in his PT gear, looking amused. "You're in my PT class?"

"I'm not following you, I promise."

Damn. PT was already going to be hard enough. With John in her class, she now felt she had even more to prove than before.

"I must say, though, you're not too observant," he said. "I've been in the same Stream as you all day."

"I didn't notice you there."

"Well, I noticed you," he said, flashing her a charm smile. "It's OK, there are 100 people in the stream, so I'm not offended." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"How have your been finding the classes?" he asked.

"So far? Pretty damn hard."

"Yeah, everyone keeps saying that. I have to agree, though. Has anyone told you about Scream yet?

"Scream?"

"Our instructor, Mitchell Loeb. The older trainees all call him 'Scream.' Can't imagine why, though," he said with a light sarcasm. "I've heard he's lovely."

Soon enough, all the other recruits showed up, including Charlie. Olivia called him over and introduced him to John. The topic on everyone's tongue was the infamous instructor known as Scream. Then their PT teacher showed up in the flesh, and whatever their fears were, they were outdone.

Loeb stood over them – fearsome and unwavering. "Listen up!" he screamed at them. Already he had lived up to his name. "In this class, you will be trained in fitness & strength, defence skills and weapon use. You will have a PT class every day and every class will go on _for as long as it has to_. If you fail to complete a single task, you will receive a red card. If you earn three of these red cards over the next five months, you will fail this class. If you fail one class, you will fail the entire program. So you better do absolutely everything I tell you, because if you do anything that even remotely pisses me off, I will not hesitate in dismissing you. I'm looking at you right now and all I can think is that I've seen tougher guys than you fail this course. And I can guarantee you that at least one of you idiots will do something stupid and get yourselves kicked out within the week." He spat. "Within the week, damn it!"

He gave his best death stare to his class and continued. "Now, your task for today is to complete an eight-mile cross-country run through the woods surrounding this campus. We are now standing at the top of Little Hill. You must follow this trail down the hill, passing several posts where you must sign your name to prove that you haven't cheated. The last half of the run involves coming uphill back to this spot. Anyone who does not complete this run within 80 minutes will receive a red card. You better get started."

Olivia's eyes followed the trail down the side of Little Hill. There was nothing little about it. It was going to be a hard run. She, John and Charlie began their journey, and set a steady but strong pace for each other, watching as one by one, recruits began to fall away around them. Some of the runners sped ahead, but they agreed it would be better for them to maintain a comfortable stride as they dodged rocks, waded through creeks and conquered hills. Six miles in, Olivia felt a deep burn in her legs and chest, as if her lungs and muscles were beginning to shred. Her throat was tight and dry. She began to slow, seeing Charlie speeding ahead, followed by John. Unable to stope herself, she stumbled on the rocks, wandered over to the side of the road, and started vomiting.

She stood hunched against a tree as she wiped her face, rubbing her burning left ankle. She must have rolled it on a rock. Damn it. She felt a strong but gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright, Olivia?"

She looked up. It was John. He'd come back. "I'm OK, I just…"

"I know you are. It's fine," he said earnestly.

"You tell anyone, ever - "

"I wasn't planning to embarrass you, Olivia. I can tell you're a tough one. It's just a hell of a run. If you need a second, take a second."

"You don't have to stay."

"I know."

As he looked her in the eyes, she saw integrity in him that she hadn't notice before. He believed that no man got left behind, a value that was probably instilled in him as a military brat. She saw now that this man had a humble strength to him – he was tough, but kind. She took a deep breath, brushing the sweating strands of hair from out of her eyes. "I'm ready," she said, walking back on to the path. "Oh, and John?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said with a reassuring smile. "Now let's go kick this trail's ass."

She chuckled at his enthusiasm and started to run again, limping slightly with the weight on her ankle but determined to break through the pain. She was relieved that he continued to set a challenging pace, as opposed to treating her like she couldn't handle the run. Eventually they reached the top of not-so-Little Hill in perfect time, where they found Charlie lying on the grass watching the sunset. They went over and joined him.

"Hey," Charlie said. "Sorry I lost you guys."

"Don't worry about it," said Olivia. "I'm just glad all three of us passed. Did you see how many people fell behind?"

"Yeah, it doesn't look good. Most people made it in time, but a couple of them are still out there."

"Enough talk about the run," John said. "We made it. Let's just be happy that we've survived our first day of the hellhole."

They sat and watched the sun disappear behind the ridgeline, laughing about the events of the day and comparing running injuries. All of them had massive blisters on their feet and cuts from branches and rocks. Olivia's ankle was still in a lot of pain from when she rolled it somewhere on the run. When darkness descended on the campus, the air became bitterly cold. "We should probably head back in," Charlie said.

"I can't be bothered," Olivia replied. "It's been years since I've done training like that. I'm not in the marines or police like you guys. My whole body is burning."

John stood up and pulled her to her feet. "You shouldn't do stairs on that ankle tonight. Do you want a piggyback ride?"

"I'd be careful, man," Charlie said. He was sure John was a nice guy and everything, but he seemed to be paying a lot of attention to Olivia, who was becoming like a little sister to him. "She was a marine cadet. Her boyfriend, too." He turned to a very sweaty and sleepy Olivia. "But you handled that run like a champ, so if you want a ride up to our room, we're happy to help."

Olivia just nodded, and she hooked her arms around John's neck, simply because he was the bigger one, and closed her eyes. She could feel herself being taken up the stairs, but her mind was reeling from the day's events, and she was asleep before her head ever touched her pillow.

**Thanks for reading! Coming up next: more academy madness, Rachael and ****Peter!**

**Please review! **


	6. Feeling the distance

**Hey guys, I owe you an apology. Last chapter when I said that Peter and Rachael were making an appearance, I didn't mean that they would have the same flirtation they had in the show, since Rachael is with Greg at this point. Just clearing that up – sorry for the misunderstanding. Anyway, hope you enjoy this next instalment! **

Charlie jerked awake and looked around. He was in his Forensic Psychology lecture, and Olivia was nudging him in the elbow to wake him up. Damn. He'd fallen asleep again. He was having enough trouble with this subject as it was.

"Mr Francis?" said their teacher, Colonel Henry Jacobsen, looking in their direction expectantly.

"Uhh...Yes, sir?" Charlie responded, knowing he'd been asked a question.

"What are the four psychological profile categories for serial rapists in order from most common to least common?"

Charlie took a breath. He and Olivia had just studied this the night before, but he stalled to give himself some time. "The four categories of serial sex offenders are Power-reassurance…Power-assertive…Anger-retaliatory…and, uh…" Damn. He knew this. Come on, come on, come on…

Olivia scribbled a note and sneaked it onto his desk. He glanced at it and continued. "And, uh, the fourth is Anger-excitation." He sent Olivia a grateful look for saving him the embarrassment of getting the answer wrong AND being asleep in class.

"Very good, Mr Francis," said Jacobsen with a gentle smile. "Now the next question is for you, Miss Dunham, seeing as you seem to know enough to help Mr Francis."

Olivia gulped. Jacobsen never missed a thing. "Yes, sir."

"What can you tell me about the motives and methods of the offenders that fall into these profiles?"

"Briefly? Power-reassurance rapists are unconfident in their masculinity and target women to prove their physical strength and power. They'll often fanaticise that they are in a relationship with the victim and will therefore not use more force than necessary, and will rarely use a weapon. Power-assertive rapists feel that they are entitled to sex regardless of the victim's perspective, targeting women in social settings and sometimes using date rape drugs. Anger-retaliatory rapists hate all women because of something in their past and will use extreme physical force on his victim, sometimes mutilating the body to cause further humiliation. Finally, Anger-excitation rapists are the most dangerous, torturing his victim extensively in order to excite maximum fear and feed into his sadism."

"That's quite impressive, Miss Dunham," Jacobsen said. "Have you studied this before?"

"Yes, sir. I studied sexual crime for my Forensic Psych dissertation at Northwestern."

"Have you ever considered working in the Behavioural Science Unit?"

"No, sir, I can't say that I have."

"Well, have a think about it. You'd fit in well there," he said with an encouraging smile. "That's all for today, class. You're free to go."

All the students gathered their things and headed for the door. That had been their last class for the week, so everyone was eager to go back to their rooms before heading out to Quantico for the night. Charlie turned to Olivia as they walked back to their dorm building. "Thanks for the note, Livvy. You saved my ass in there."

"You'd do the same for me. It's been a hell of a week – no one can blame you for being tired."

John ran up behind them, laughing. "Nice going, Charlie. Forget your crappy cop coffee, this morning?"

"Shut up, Jarhead. And if you're gonna be an agent you'll have to get used to the coffee and doughnuts diet, too. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's in the final."

"Yeah, whatever," said John. "Well, are you guys heading out tonight? You know, to celebrate the fact that we all survived our first week?"

"Yeah, the whole gang's meeting at the Whitehorse at 6pm for dinner and drinks. See you there?"

"Sure thing," John said, and they all headed off to their respective rooms.

After they recovered from their first day, things had become more manageable for the new recruits at Quantico. Their lessons were by no means easier, but Olivia and her friends were starting to get their heads around where everything was, which teachers to watch out for and how to survive their often hellish classes. Although their lecturers had high expectations, she was finding the work as interesting and challenging as she'd dreamed. She and Charlie were supporting each other well as roommates and friends, helping each other with their homework just as they'd agreed to on their first night.

Charlie had made a real effort to decorate his side of the room, covering the walls with family photos and posters for bands and sports stars like Muhammad Ali. Olivia's side was barer, except for a few photos of college friends, Rachael, her mother, and Lucas. She had one of Lucas' marine dog tags hanging from her bedpost, next to her late father's navy tags. Lucas had given it to her when he left for training at a military base in California a few months ago. It was the first time they'd been apart in the years they'd known each other, and suddenly their relationship was reduced to nightly phone calls and occasional weekend visits. Weeks later, Olivia was accepted into the Academy, and the rift between was forced wider. They kept copies of each other's dog tags so they would always feel like the other was a little less far away.

Olivia was suddenly conscious of how long it had been since she called Lucas. She picked up her phone and hopped out onto The Ledge. She dialled Lucas' number and rested her head on the warm brick wall as it dialled, exhausted from the ordeal of her first full week at the Academy.

"Hello?"

"Lucas? It's me."

"Oh, hey," he said. Olivia noted a slight disappointment in his tone, but brushed it off. "You hanging in there?"

"Yeah, I think so. You?"

"I don't know, Olivia, things are pretty crazy over here."

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time? Because I can call back - "

"No, it's fine. I have a few minutes. How's that roommate of yours treating you?"

"He's great. Why'd you want to know? So you could come down and kick his ass?" she asked playfully.

He chuckled. "I'm sure if he did anything uncalled for you'd take care of him yourself by the time I got there."

"Well, that's true. But I could never beat up Charlie. He's a sweetheart. And he cooks better than you."

"Hey! I'm learning. I'm actually started to get really good."

"Yeah, I'm sure you produce culinary masterpieces with all that pre-packaged junk they serve you on the base."

"Exactly my point – it takes talent, I tell you. But seriously, what's going on over there?"

"Well, I busted my ankle in PT, but it's getting better. I'm still not doing as well as I could, though. It's so frustrating."

"You never did lose well. I'm sure you're beating the crap out of your other classes, though."

"Depends on the teacher. My Forensic Psych professor's a legend, but my law lecturer hates us all with a passion. I don't even know why he's a teacher."

"He probably gets off on the power trip - likes to play God and make all you poor students fear his wrath."

"Gee, that's insightful," she joked. "Maybe you should be doing psych."

"I learned from the best," he replied.

She heard him sigh across the distance. She knew that sound too well. He always went quiet when something upset him.

"Lucas?"

"Olivia…I think they're going to send me, you know…over there. And soon."

"I thought you still had a few months - "

"I know. I know. But you've seen how things have been since the attacks. Everyone's on edge, everyone's scared. I'm scared, you know, that's God's honest truth. We all know there's going to be a war. They're talking about sending in marines to do intelligence work before they start sending full battalions next year. If that happens, I'll be one of the first over there – we both know that."

"You'd know I'd wait for you, don't you?" Olivia said. "Until you got back?"

He sighed again. "Yeah…I know you would, Olivia."

Silence.

"Lucas? Is there something else? Something you're not telling me?"

"I just…I miss you too much, Olivia…I'm sorry."

Something about the way he said that didn't sit right with her. Olivia felt in her gut that something he'd said to her today had been a lie – or at the most a half truth - but decided to let it go. Things were difficult between them as it was and she didn't want to rock the boat. "I miss you, too."

"Look, I should probably go. But take care of yourself, Liv."

"I will. Stay safe." 

She hung up, already missing the feel of him. She was suddenly aware of how long it had been since they'd touched. Too long. It was a painful distance, bitter and ever-expanding. Something hadn't been right about Lucas. Whenever she'd talked to him lately, he'd seemed more reserved than he usually was. He must just be stressed out at work, she thought. Who wouldn't be? There was a war coming, and nobody knew how it was going to affect them yet.

Olivia lay back against the bricks as the late afternoon sun turned the woods orange. Feeling a biting loneliness, she dialled her sister's number. Rachael was going to be in Boston for the weekend visiting their mother, so hopefully talking to both of them would cheer her up. She heard the phone's familiar hum until someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Rachael?"

"Oh my God, Liv, is that you? How are you?"

"Better now," she said with a weak smile. "Are you in Boston?"

"Yeah. It's so great to be home, Liv."

"Home, Rach? We moved around so much."

"I know, I know, but Boston will always be home to me purely because we stayed here the longest."

"How are things at college? Greg?"

"Well, college is giving me hell with all these exams, but things with Greg are great. He's been doing really well, lately."

"I'm glad. Hey, is Mum there?"

"Yeah, give me a sec. MUM, LIVVY'S ON THE PHONE! Liv, she's coming right now, hold on."

Olivia listened to the muffled voices and footsteps on the other end, not knowing what to expect from her mother. When Olivia had decided to take this professional route, her mother had always been supportive, but concerned. After all, she was an army wife, and knew all too well what kind of toll such a dangerous job could take on a person.

"Olive?"

"Mum?"

"Oh, it's so good to hear your voice! How is everything over there? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mum. I was just missing you guys."

"We've been missing you too, sweetheart. How are your classes?"

"They're pretty hard, but we're managing. I mean, the work's challenging in an interesting way."

"Rachael told me you hurt your ankle, is that true?"

"Yeah, I just twisted it a bit at training, but it's fine."

"OK, well it's good to know you're handling things. You know, your sister can exaggerate sometimes."

"Yeah, I noticed." Olivia laughed, then took pause. "Mum, are you alright? You sound tired."

"Oh, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm just glad you're on top of things. And is your roommate being a gentleman?"

"Yes, Mum, he's fine."

"You'll let me know if that changes, won't you?"

"I could handle him myself, Mum."

"I know you can, Olive. You can certainly handle a lot. I'd just feel better if you weren't in a situation where you had to _handle_ things."

"You're sounding a lot like you did when you used to call me at boarding school."

"I can't help it, I feel like you're always running off somewhere and we hardly see each other. Anyway, it's Friday night, what have you got planned?"

"Some friends and I are going to this bar in Quantico. It's kind of a favourite spot for the Academy kids."

"Oh good. It'd be great for you to get out and have some fun. You work so hard and I feel like you're always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I'm glad you're going, have a great night."

"Thanks, Mum, I will. Listen, how's Rachael really going with Greg? Is he treating her well?"

"Well, according to her, yes, but you know how young Rachael is, Olive. I'm sure she's just trying to see the best in him."

"I'm worried."

"I know, love. I understand how much you care about her, but we have to let Rachael experience things for herself and make her own mistakes, if this is a mistake. I just don't know at this point. We can only leave it in God's hands."

"Yeah, sure…" Olivia trailed off, always uncomfortable about her mother's beliefs.

"Take care, Olive. And have some fun tonight. You deserve it."

"OK, Mum. I love you."

"I love you, too, Olive."

She hung up, glad to have spoken to her mother. There was always such elation whenever she bridged that gap and contacted home, but every time she hung up she couldn't escape the reminder that she was still on the other side of the country. She ran a hand through her hair. This had been the best and worst week of her life. Her body, brain and emotions had been pushed to breaking point. Part of her wanted to go to bed, while another part just wanted to go home. She checked her watch, noticing it was about 5pm. The rest of the group was meeting for dinner at 6, but she couldn't wait that long for a drink – not after a week like that.

She changed into something a little more classy and scribbled a quick note for Charlie before catching the bus to Quantico. Olivia was fascinated by how quiet this tiny town was before the thousands of students descended on it at night. When she arrived at the Whitehorse, she was the only one there, and she found the bartender from the other night, Peter, polishing the bar as music bounced softly off the brick walls.

_It's the way he looks at you  
That says to me  
This isn't over  
From the outside looking in  
You see there's nothing sacred here  
Nothing sacred  
You can bend  
But you can't break_

"I remember you," he said. "You're that psychic ninja girl from the other night."

"That's not a bad memory," she said, approaching the empty bar and taking a seat. "You remember saying that you'd make me something special if I ever came by again?"

"Of course. Besides, you're my first customer of the night, how can I say no?" He smiled, his hands digging through clinking bottles. "You're a whiskey girl, aren't you?"

"Yep, but I'm feeling a little more adventurous tonight."

"Bad day?"

"Bad week. Well, not bad, just intense I guess."

"Hmmm," he said, considering her request. "You like vodka?"

"It's not my first preference, but sure."

"OK, I've got something perfect for you. Could take a minute or two to make, though," he said.

"That's alright. Do your worst."

"Oh I intend to, sweetheart. This is a little something I picked up when I was in the Middle East last year."

"Did you serve?" Olivia asked.

Peter scoffed. "Hell no. I just managed to find some work there as a contractor. But you know, some idiots fly planes into buildings, Bush declares war and suddenly it's open season on Americans, so I kind of had to leave."

"So how does a guy like you end up bartending in Quantico of all places?"

"Well, as I said the other night, I got this gig through a friend, but to be honest I was willing to do anything to get out of my last job."

"Which was…?"

He laughed. "Honestly? I was working down in Tennessee as the floor sweeper of a meatpacking plant."

"Sounds awesome."

"You have no idea. But hey, that's what happens when you drop out of MIT."

_Hey little girl keep dancing  
Hey little girl keep dancing alone  
'Cause there's not enough time in your day  
To keep you here_

Olivia saw that as he was making her drink, he'd grabbed something from the cupboard. "Hold on, is that tea? What the hell are you making me?" she asked, peeking over the counter top.

"Uh-uh, no peeking, sweetheart. You'll ruin the surprise."

"Alright, I surrender. And stop calling me sweetheart."

"Well, you haven't really given me anything else to call you yet."

She held out her hand. "Olivia Dunham."

"Peter Bishop," he responded as he shook it.

His hand dropped away from hers and, although she couldn't quite explain it, she immediately she felt loss as contact between them broke. She shook her head to clear it. She must just be missing Lucas too much. Peter had finished making her drink and placed it on the bench before her.

"Should I ask what's in this or is it better left unsaid?" she asked.

"It's called a Red Russian – mint tea and vodka."

"That sounds weird and awful," she took a small sip of her shot glass and cringed as the liquid burned down to her stomach. "It's worse."

"You get used to it," he said, laughing at her reaction. "So what are you really here early for – apart from a horrific first week at the Academy? I've got a feeling there's another problem bothering you."

She looked at him pensively. Bartender's tended to have a knack for weeding out the silent troubles in people's heads. "Well, everybody has problems, but the problems I have I can handle."

He just looked at her as if to say, 'Just spit it out'. She paused. Normally she wouldn't even consider spilling all her problems onto somebody, but in the end, the guy was just a bartender. What did she have to lose? "Just missing home, I guess."

"Where's that?" he asked.

"Nowhere really – I moved around too much as a kid. It's wherever my people are, I guess. I'm used to being away from everybody. I mean, I went to boarding school, then college, now here…I don't know, I think I'm only missing them here because this week's been horrible and all I keep thinking is that the first person I want to complain about it to is my sister." She took another sip, yearning to feel its effects. "Forget it, I'm just being stupid."

"You're being human," he said, resting his elbow on the table. "That school you're in is enough to make anyone crack sometime. Trust me; I've heard all the horror stories. People always tell the worst stuff to the bartender. I don't know what's going on with you or anything, but just believe me when I say you're not the only one who's scared. Take a number."

"I'm not scared - not about the Academy, anyway."

"So what then?"

"I don't know…I guess the only other things on my mind are my sister and my boyfriend. I've always been there to look after Rachael until now. And she's with this guy who treats her like dirt and I'm worried that I won't be there to help if he does something terrible to her."

"She's younger, isn't she? You've got that sense of protectiveness about you."

"Yeah, she is. And my boyfriend, Lucas – we met in the marines. I dropped out so I could do this job but he stayed on, and now he's probably going to be sent to the Middle East soon. It's just a strange time. Everything's changing, you know? I kind of feel like I woke up this morning and I didn't recognise anything. Not anything at all." She finished her shot and noticed that in their time talking, other students had started to filter into the bar.

"Listen, I've seen a lot of people come to this town and every one of them has done it tough. But in the end, it's not your circumstances that make you who you are, it's how you choose to react – like fight or flight syndrome. And you don't seem like the kind of girl to back down from a fight, especially if it's a fight for something she loves. You're gonna be fine, Livia."

She gave him a weak smile, finding that she didn't necessarily dislike the shortened name he's given her. She heard a voice behind her call her name. It was Astrid, standing with Kent. "We're heading upstairs to wait for the others if you want to head up when you're ready."

"Thanks Astrid, I'll be up in a sec." She turned to Peter. "This has been fun, but I should go. How much do I owe you?" She asked, pulling out her wallet.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's on me." He took a closer look at her wallet, which contained a picture of Olivia with Rachael. "This your sister?"

"Yeah."

"She's cute."

"Watch it, she's 19."

"I guess good looks run in the family, then," he said with a cheeky grin, just to annoy her.

"Careful, Bishop," she said playfully. "Didn't I just mention I used to be a marine?"

"True, but you've got a few more months until the FBI gives you a gun, so I'm trying to get it out of my system early. After that, well, if I ever made a similar comment, I'm sure they'd never find my body."

"Got that right," she said, closing her wallet. "Grateful to you – for the drink and your pep talk. See you later."

"Anytime, _sweetheart_."

She shot him a playful glare and kept walking up to the second floor of the bar. He watched the confidence in her walk – not the kind of confidence girls adopted when they were trying to get a guy's attention – the kind that spoke of a deep and unwavering faith in her abilities. His eyes couldn't leave her, and all he knew was that he'd never met anyone quite like her. More so, he couldn't wait to see this future-agent Olivia Dunham again, sooner rather than later.

_So over the hills he'd climb  
Just to see her there in time  
Just to watch the sun shine through her dress  
The sweet soldier's daughter  
_

**Thanks for reading, please, PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Song lyrics are from Soldier's Daughter by Tonic**

**Henry Jacobsen was Olivia's old mentor, he makes an appearance in "Arrival"**


	7. Say it ain't so

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait, but here's a****n eventful chapter for you!**

**I based ****this chapter on this scene from ****In Which We Meet Mr Jones:**

_**LUCAS: I've known this for years. I screwed-up… with you. **_

_**OLIVIA: The timing wasn't right for either of us. **_

_**LUCAS: Yes it was. I know it was. But I was scared. And that's the - the God's honest truth. I think about you… so often and… I don't call because… because I'm ashamed of how I treated you. **_

**I ****hope my interpretation sits right with you. ****Enjoy! **

"You ready?"

"Hell yeah!"

"You?"

"Bring it on!"

"This is hilariously stupid," John whispered to Olivia as they watched Peter and Brandon warm up for a fight.

"I have to agree," Olivia replied. "But I'm not going to lie, I'm enjoying myself."

_All the, small things  
True care, truth brings  
I'll take, one lift  
Your ride, best trip _

"You're so going down, man" Peter teased Brandon.

"Yeah? Well…well, you're going further down! Underground!" Brandon retorted.

Kent burst out laughing. "Dude, stop talking. Now come on, start the fight!"

They had been at the Academy for a month, now, so the Whitehorse had become a regular spot for their group of friends to hang out, and they often had it all to themselves. A week earlier, Peter had noticed Brandon working on a gadget for his computer science class and mentioned that he used to study at MIT. That night, the two of them had gotten into a dispute over the tip, so the guys decided to settle it the only way they knew how: a remote-control robot boxing match.

It was now a week later, and they had spent all their time building robots for the fight. Charlie was refereeing, unable to keep a straight face as he lent over the bar table. Peter and Brandon were giving each other mischievous death-stares as they set up their miniature robots on either side. Amy watched in awe of their immaturity, and said "I think I've been waiting for you people my whole life."

Astrid was recording the whole thing on camera. "This is so going on the internet," she smirked.

"They made a deal," Kent said. "If Brandon wins, we get a free round of drinks. If Peter wins, Brandon has to consume one of his mystery beverages."

"Oh, that can't be good," Olivia said. "Peter's made me some pretty toxic stuff in the past. And Brandon's even more of a lightweight than you, Kent."

"Hey!"

_Always, I know  
You'll be at my show  
Watching, waiting, commiserating  
Say it ain't so, I will not go, _

_turn the lights off, carry me home _

"Since they're betting, shouldn't we be betting too?" John asked. "I mean, we're all hoping for our sake that we get a free round, but who do you think is actually going to win?"

"Brandon's a genius," Amy said, tossing a note on the table. "Twenty bucks on him for me."

"Same for me," said Astrid, and Kent followed close behind.

"I don't know," Olivia argued. "They're both geniuses. They designed they're own boxing robots, for crying out loud. Brandon's smart, but I think Peter makes a good underdog. Thirty bucks on Bishop."

"I'm with Liv," said John. "But I'm stingy, so I'm only betting twenty."

Charlie whistled to get their attention. "Alright, let's get down to business!"

"Come on!" said Kent. "Let's see some blood already!"

"Robots don't have blood, stupid," said Astrid. "Besides, if they did, they'd probably just bleed mercury."

"Enough!" Charlie shouted in mock seriousness. "This is a serious match, people. I want a good, clean fight, boys. Ready, set, GO!"

What followed could only be described as college-style insanity. The tiny robots hobbled towards each other and collapsed onto the table together, meanwhile drunken students huddled around and cheered them on, flinging bottle caps at them. Peter and Brandon were in the zone as they frantically thumbed their remotes, completely oblivious to anything but their tumbling gadgets. Eventually, Peter's robot defeated Brandon's, laying on top of it while its tiny mechanical arms bashed it up. Charlie wrenched them apart and declared Peter the winner, and as a result, Brandon had to down a double shot Red Russian mixed with a raw egg. Naturally, he was in the bathroom throwing up a short time later.

John and Olivia managed to split $100 of winnings between them, and they bought everyone drinks anyway. Olivia went up to Peter at the bar to go and get them.

_Late night, come home  
Work sucks, I know  
She left me roses by the stairs  
Surprises let me know she cares_

"That was impressive," she said after she ordered for everyone.

"Why, thank you," Peter said in mock modesty. "I take a lot of pride in what I do."

"You told me you went to MIT but you never said you were actually _good_."

"So?"

"So why the hell did you leave?"

"The whole studying thing wasn't for me. I like learning and everything, but I always hated school."

"I can picture you as that kid who was always skipping class to go test out the latest recipes from the Anarchist's Cookbook under the bleachers."

He laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. My teachers were always saying I was wasting my potential."

"So did mine," she said.

He scoffed. "You? Wasting potential? I don't believe you."

"It's true, but not in the way you think. Because I worked hard and was kind of a loner everyone expected me to become a doctor or a lawyer or something. When they found out I was becoming a cop my teachers went nuts."

"What about your parents?"

"My Mum's proud of me and everything, but I think she'd feel better if I'd just become a schoolteacher or something, you know, safer. She's an army wife, you know? She knows I can handle the work but it's hard for her to watch someone put themselves out in danger like that again."

"And what does your Dad think?"

Olivia paused. Her lips sealed into a dry, weak smile, but Peter noticed that her eyes lost some of their light. "That's a story for another night," she said. "Thanks for the drinks." She gathered them up and started to walk back to their table.

"Here, let me give you a hand," Peter said, grabbing a few of the glasses for her.

"I can manage," she countered.

"I know," he said. "I'm just doing my job."

She couldn't argue with that, so she swallowed her pride. This was something she had to get used to. She had always been forced to prove herself – she was desperate to be taken seriously in her studies, particularly by men. Now that she was actually in the Academy, the other students treated her with the respect she'd always strived for. It was a difficult adjustment, knowing that now guys weren't talking down to her, and that when they were nice to her they weren't just trying to pick her up.

The group were having a great night - Peter brought over some cards so they all started showing off their best tricks. Peter startled them over and over again with his magic tricks, yet another thing that made him an awesome bartender. When Olivia revealed that she could count cards, he was impressed. "That's fantastic," he said. "Women never have card tricks."

"That's all I would do when I was a kid. I'm sure that if I was a child today, I would be diagnosed with something," she laughed.

Her phone rang and she excused herself as she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Olivia? It's Lucas."

She felt relieved. She hadn't spoken to him in ages, and when she had, it was always her calling him. "Hey. What's going on?"

"We need to talk. It's important. Do you have a minute?"

She bit her lip, and Peter noticed her looking uncomfortable as she began to rise from her seat. "Sure," she said. "Just give me a sec to find somewhere quiet."

Peter called after her as she walked away. "Is everything OK, Livia?"

She looked back to him and saw a slight but tender concern on his face. "Yeah," she said lightly, though her face didn't match her expression. "I'm sure it's nothing."

She wandered outside the bar and found a bench on the street to sit on. "OK, Lucas, I'm all yours. What's wrong?"

She heard him take a breath. "Olivia, I'm being deployed in two weeks. I just…thought you'd want to know."

She closed her eyes. Damn it. "Where?"

"Germany first. Then probably Iraq or Afghanistan. I'll be gone a long time."

Olivia gave herself some time to absorb the gravity of his statement. She knew this day would come eventually, but she always though there'd be more time. "You know I meant what I said the other day, right? About waiting for you?"

"That's the thing, Olivia," He sighed again. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."

This startled her. "What are you talking about Lucas? You're my boyfriend; of course I'll wait for you."

"You really shouldn't. Maybe it'd be better if we just stopped this now."

"Stopped…Lucas, what are you trying to say?" She was pacing now, her spare hand running through her hair. This was ridiculous, she thought. They'd been best friends for years, even before they decided to admit to each other that it was more than that. How could he just decide enough was enough?

"You should move on, Olivia. That's what I'm trying to say," he said, his voice rising now. "First I had to go away for training, then you had to move to Virginia, now I'm going to fucking Germany. This isn't going to work, Olivia. It can't. Not now, not ever. Just forget about me, forget we ever had anything, and you can go live your life in Quantico. That's what you always wanted anyway."

"You bastard," she spat. She'd tried to keep her mouth shut as best as she could, because she knew if she didn't she was going to lose it – majorly. "I can understand you doing this because we're in a relationship, but as my _friend_? My _best friend_, Lucas? This is bullshit!"

"You were never just my friend, Olivia! You know that! I was always more invested in this than you. I was always the one chasing you when you were scared of losing your precious independence. I had always loved you, damn it. Every day. It's all or nothing for me. If we can't really be together then there's just no point in trying."

"Why do you get to decide that? Don't I have a say in this at all?"

"Come on, Olivia! How long would you wait? A month? A year? Five years? There's going to be a war, and it's gonna get ugly. I might not even make it back at all. Do you think I want that? Do you think I want to have you waiting for me while I go into the desert with a target on my head and die just like your Dad - "

"Don't you dare make this about my father, Lucas! And stop making it out like you're doing this for me. What you're doing, you're doing for yourself. Just stop lying to me."

"You want the truth, Olivia? The truth is we're both idiots for getting into this mess in the first place. We both knew this was inevitable. We knew it for a long time. So if you really want to blame me, go ahead, but blame yourself too, because it's just as much your fault as it is mine."

"You're so full of shit, Lucas."

When he spoke again, his tone was softer. "Look, you can wait for me as long as you want, but I'm not doing this with you, Olivia. It'll be years before we see each other again – _if _we ever see each other again. I've been thinking about this for a while, I just didn't have the heart to tell you until we knew for sure I was being sent over there. As far as I'm concerned, there's no way that this can end well. So I'm sorry, Olivia - you can fight it and wait all you want, but the fact of the matter is…I'm not gonna be waiting for you."

That was it. That was when she broke. Olivia Dunham was not a beggar, but she had to bite on her lip just to stop herself from crying and begging him not to leave her. She could feel her body start to crumble – her eyes moistening, her throat tightening, the protests in her head turning into caterwauls. "Lucas, please…" she choked. "You can't…I understand that this can't work as a relationship, but you're my _best friend_. Lucas, I…I just want to go back to before."

Some thousands of miles away, she heard him sigh and whisper, "I don't think we can, Olivia. I'm sorry."

And that was it. The dial tone pierced her brain, and he was gone again. And this time he wasn't coming back. Her body felt like it was stuck in inertia. Had that really happened? Did he mean what he said? She scrunched her eyes and paced furiously, not sure what to do with her hands – whether to punch something or cradle herself. She charged back inside the bar to get her shoulder bag and say goodbye to the others. She didn't know what she was going to do about this, but she needed to be by herself to figure it out. As she approached the table, she put on her best poker face and said, "Look guys, it's been fun hanging out tonight but that PT session today really wore me out. I think I'm just going to head back to the room. I'll see you guys on the weekend, though, OK?"

"Are you sure you're alright, Livvy?" asked Charlie. "Coz I can come back with you if you want."

"Thanks, but I'll be OK. I'm just really tired," she said as she exited the bar, leaving the others somewhat convinced except for John, Charlie and Peter, who all exchanged looks.

"I'll go," Peter said to them, and he followed Olivia outside. "Hey!" he called out to her.

She didn't stop. "Aren't you supposed to be working?" she snapped as she kept walking.

"Olivia!" She stopped but didn't turn around. He caught up with her and tried to make eye contact, though she was resisting him. "What happened?" he asked. "Are you crying?"

"Don't." she spat. "Just…don't."

"Look," he said gently. "I know you need your space. I'm just reminding you that if you ever decide you want to talk about it, I'm there - John and Charlie, too."

She glared at him. "You know, just coz you're my bartender, doesn't mean you have to pretend like we're friends or something. Just leave me alone."

He was taken aback. All of them had been hanging out at his bar non-stop for the past month. He liked to think they were all friends by now, even if he wasn't at the Academy too. Still, he reminded himself that something external was going on with her and swallowed his frustration. "Listen to me, Olivia. I have no idea what just happened to you, but whatever it was had nothing to do with me. So like I said, when you're ready to stop being such a spitfire, feel free to come over and vent. My door is always open. Or at least talk to Charlie."

"Yeah," she mumbled, and walked away, leaving him in a standstill, watching her go. She eventually made her way back to her room and hopped out onto The Ledge. She sat there on the edge of the concrete, allowing herself to feel the weight of what had just happened. Night descended on the woods she had grown to love, but she couldn't have felt farther from home. She was shivering, but barely noticed the cool night air. She was oblivious to everything else in the world as she sat on the concrete, all alone, sobbing into her shaking hands.

**Poor Olivia… Please review!**

**Song lyrics are from All the Small Things by Blink 182**


	8. You're gonna be fine

Olivia banged her head repeatedly against the brick wall. How could she have been so stupid? She was better off alone – she had always been certain of that. What the hell made her so sure that Lucas was worth the risk? Olivia had stopped crying by now. All she could do was grit her teeth and stare into space as her head ran through a chain of memories she couldn't stop from surfacing.

_They'd met outside the office of the Newton Building at Northwestern. Both of them were checking the roster to see which group they'd been drafted into for the Marine cadets program. He dropped his wallet and she picked it up for him. They got talking. He was from Chicago and was studying Political Science. She couldn't remember exactly what was said, only that her first impression of Lucas Vogel was a good one. He was funny and confident, but more pensive than arrogant. They'd both been drafted into the same team, and out of all the other men in their class, he treated her with the most respect. They began studying together, training together, and within weeks they were like brother and sister - inseparable and unstoppable. _

Olivia screwed her eyes shut. No. She willed herself to stop thinking about him. It just hurt too much. But she couldn't stop it. One after another her brain was flooded with moments of their friendship and beyond, to the moment where everything had changed.

"_Olivia!" he called out to her as he ran in her direction. "Come on," he said, leading her down to the park where the crowds were waiting. It was 4__th__ of July at the military base where they were on a training camp, and the fireworks were just about to start. They had almost been cancelled due to cloudy weather, but the skies had cleared at the last minute. He watched mesmerised as her face lit up in a kaleidoscopic array of colour. He'd never seen her smile like that. She seemed so strikingly young. _

_She looked up at him, puzzled, having noticed that he was staring. "What?" she asked innocently. _

_He couldn't stand her looking at him like that. They'd been dancing around each other for years now – too long, in his opinion - but he hadn't wanted to scare her. In that moment he made up his mind: it was now or never. He just leaned in slowly, absorbing the fear and wonder vibrating in their breaths as the space between them shrunk down to zero. He felt her stiffen and he stopped, but stood his ground. "Lucas…" she murmured against his lips. "I..." After a moment, she shook her head and gave in, closing the gap between them. The kiss started out as something awkward, but somewhere along the way, it became something else entirely. But just before it went from something else to something real, Olivia broke away. She closed her eyes in embarrassment – anything to deny what had just happened, or more so, that she had felt something. _

"_I'm so sorry," she said, not looking at him. "I shouldn't have done that."_

"_Olivia…"_

"_Just forget it. I'll see you at training tomorrow, OK?" she said, disappearing into the crowd. _

"_Olivia!" he called after her, but it was too late. She was already a long way gone._

From her position outside, Olivia heard their apartment door open and familiar footsteps padding gently across the wooden floor towards her. She tensed as Charlie poked his head through the window, looking down on her. "Livvy," he whispered. She didn't respond, barely turned her head, so he tried again. "Livvy, what's going on?"

She hugged her legs close to her chest. Her voice was wet and strained from all her crying, barely more than a whimper. "I'm alright, Charlie. You didn't have to come back."

"Sure I did," he said, hopping out onto The Ledge. "You're not alright."

She gave him a weak smile. "Charlie, I'm fine."

He paused and lowered his head, settling down next to her on the ledge. Their shoulders touching, she could feel his chest expand and contract in a steady but weighted rhythm. "You know, last year, back when I was a cop in New York…" His voice was deeper than usual, heavier, like he was unleashing something he kept locked up in the deepest part of him. "One morning, my partner, Danny, and I are out on patrol, and we get this call on the radio saying there's been a plane crash in Manhattan and they needed us to assist with the evacuation. When we get there, it's just chaos - people screaming, running, smoke everywhere. Both of us are directing crowds out of the streets…Then…then the second tower gets hit, and we realize this wasn't just a plane crash. Then we're running, all of us. I lose track of my partner. I inhale too much smoke and black out, next thing I know I'm in hospital. My Captain's there and he tells me that Danny didn't make it. Anyway, um... I'm in hospital for six days. Sonia stays with me the entire time. Kept on telling her, 'I'm fine'. But I was shaken, and I was scared."

She grasped his shoulder as she listened, amazed that something like that could happen to someone who really didn't deserve it. What didn't surprise her was that he had overcome it. She always knew Charlie was brave in the most compassionate possible way. He was made of steel but he was also human. She wished she could be like that.

"Livvy," he continued. "I don't know what's going on with you. And if you really don't want to tell me then I'll respect that. All I'm saying is; I know what it's like to always want to be impenetrable, and I know how much it kills you when something makes you realise you're not. Now if you're anything like me, you're blaming yourself right now, and you're scared, and no matter how much you want to appear strong, you just want someone to hold your hand." He smiled. "Hey. You can fool the others, kiddo. You can't fool me."

She faintly smiled back and let him pull her into a tight hug. Without her even realising it, her fingernails had dug into his jacket and she clung to the friendly comfort of his embrace. Charlie kept things appropriate by holding her delicately, so she could get out when she was ready. He felt tears soak through his sleeve. "Hey," he whispered. "Livvy…"

She pulled away but he kept his arm around her shoulder as they sat side by side on the concrete. "I'm such an idiot. I should never have let this happen," she muttered resentfully.

"Well, if you're an idiot, then there's no hope for me," he said with a cheeky smile, which she couldn't help but return to some degree. His tone grew earnest again. "Come on, Livvy, what happened?"

She took a moment to wipe her face, embarrassed, and gritted her teeth as a bitter, frustrated tear sliced down her cheek. "You know what's ridiculous?" she said after what seemed like hours. "He was the one person in the whole world I thought would never make me feel this bad."

"Lucas?"

She nodded. "He's being sent over there. In two weeks."

"Have you called Rachael?"

She shook her head. "She'll just ask a lot of questions and blow things out of proportion. That's the last thing I need right now," she said. "You know, I won't get to see him before he goes and…the worst part is, he doesn't even want me to."

"What do you mean?"

"Bastard dumped me. We agreed when we both went off to training that we'd wait for each other, but…he's already moved on. He told me to forget we ever knew each other. He doesn't even want to be friends anymore. He thinks it'll be easier that way - you know, in case he doesn't come back…He was my best friend. For four years he was my best friend, long before we were more than that. Before Rachael came to Northwestern, he was all I had there. I just…I want to hate him. I really do. Because then I wouldn't care that he was going to the most dangerous place on the planet. I wouldn't be so scared of him getting hurt… Charlie, my Dad died in combat when I was seven. I don't know that I could bear that kind of pain twice…It'd be easier if I hated Lucas – it sure as hell wouldn't hurt like this - but I don't. I can't. But I hate myself. Because I never wanted to be the kind of person who let herself get involved with a guy, let herself get hurt like this. I never wanted to be that girl. But I am. And it tears me up."

"I'm so sorry, Livvy," he whispered.

"Charlie…I…I'm so…" Her brows furrowed as she struggled to express herself while the pain started to take over, fighting to keep the fear and abandonment from overwhelming her. "I just…I don't want to be here."

Charlie pulled her close again. "Shhh…." He said. "You're gonna be fine. And he's gonna be fine too."

They sat like that for ages in a perfect silence, while inside Olivia's mind there was a whirlwind. She couldn't help seeing Lucas in her head – reflecting on past events and imagining where he could end up. At training in Northwestern. In the deserts of Afghanistan. At their graduation. In her bed on lazy weekend mornings. In a body bag.

She shuddered. She needed something to break her free from this inertia. "Charlie, could you do me a favour?"

"For you, Livvy? Anytime."

"Did John come back with you?"

"Yeah, he's in his room, I think."

"Can you ask him to come out and talk with us? If he wants to? I just want to ask him some stuff."

"Sure thing, Livvy. Gimme a sec." He got up to walk along the side of the building, and Olivia already felt cold at the lost of her security blanket. Charlie rapped on John's window and, soon after, a blond head popped out and spun in her direction. "Damn," he said with a gentle smile. "Now you know how to sneak into my room to raid the fridge for midnight snacks."

"Well, you're stupid for not locking your window," Charlie replied. "But hey, now that you mention it, go get us some food, Jarhead."

John groaned and disappeared back inside his room, emerging with some lollies and a pack of M&Ms. He tossed them to Olivia. "You're favourite, right?"

"Yeah, thank you."

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, but with a more casual tone to his voice. He sounded like he was deliberately trying not to make a big deal out of it, so she wouldn't be embarrassed. She really appreciated how John could underplay things sometimes.

She gulped down some chocolate. "I was just telling Charlie that Lucas got drafted. He's going over there in two weeks and he thinks it'll be best if neither of us spoke to each other again."

"God, Liv," he muttered. "That's harsh. You don't deserve that. And if he thinks he's better off in a warzone without your support back home, he's mistaken."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "You were over there, right? In the Middle East?"

"Yeah, but only for a couple of months of training, nothing serious."

"Where?" Charlie asked.

"All over the place, but Tikrit mostly. But we were just there for training and community control – there's no official fighting in Iraq yet, only Afghanistan. Then again, who knows how long it'll stay that way."

"How bad was it?" Olivia asked. She had to know, although she wasn't sure the answer would be one she wanted to hear. "Tell me the truth, John. How bad?"

"Well, like I said, there wasn't any conflict where I was, but things have changed so much since I was in the Middle East. I've heard stories, though. My friend Raul is in Kandahar, and he's saying that most of the local Afghanis are really cooperative, but the extremists themselves are smart. They've had a lot of issues with IEDs. He's saying that's their worst problem at this point. But you never know how long these things will last, Liv. I've never met Lucas, but he's a marine. That alone tells me he's strong, and he's smart, and it's gonna take a lot to tear a guy like that down. If he keeps his wits about him, and he's in a good group of guys who look out for each other, he'll be OK."

Olivia pondered his words. She believed he was telling her the truth, but it did little to quell her fears. "Thanks John," she said. "You too, Charlie. You guys have helped, but it's been a long day. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Sure thing, Livvy," Charlie said.

"Give us a shout if you need anything," said John. "My window's always open."

She merely gave them a grateful glance, and disappeared back through her window. When she was gone, Charlie sighed and looked at John.

"How was she?" John asked him. "Before I got here?"

"She's a tough one, but she's scared for him," Charlie replied. "And of course her best friend of four years has abandoned her out of nowhere, so that's gotta hurt. But, you know, she's hanging in there."

"She didn't deserve that," John said sincerely. "And frankly he's an idiot for tossing her away like she's nothing. I would have given anything to have had her kind of support when I was serving. She just…doesn't deserve it."

"Hey," Charlie said, cutting John off in a no-nonsense tone. "I know you like her and everything, but don't you dare look at this as an opportunity to make your move."

"What, do you think I'm an idiot?" John whispered harshly. "I care about her just as much as you do, Charlie. She's our best friend, and that comes first. I'm not blind; I can see she's in a lot of pain right now. My first priority is to be a good friend to her and get her feeling like her old self again, not take advantage of the situation. You of all people should know I'd never do that to her."

"You're right," Charlie said. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about her, I guess."

"Yeah. Me too. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, John walked back down the ledge and disappeared back through his window.

Charlie rested his head against the wall of the building, taking solace in his view of the distant night lights of Quantico. He sent up a quick silent prayer for Olivia, who he felt was practically like a little sister to him by now. Charlie didn't pray often, but his mother raised him Catholic and old habits die hard. The only thing running through his head was _Please don't let the bastard die. It'll destroy her. She's too young. Just please don't let the guy die._

After a few minutes, he hopped back inside their room, where Olivia was lying in bed, exhausted from the day's events. As he pulled the blankets tighter over her, he noticed that Lucas' dog tags were clutched tightly in her hand. She looked sad even in her sleep, and he knew that somewhere in her dreamscape she was probably having nightmares of the worst things possible. Before he went to bed himself, he scribbled something on a post-it note and stuck it to the wall beside her bed, so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up.

All it said was: "YOU'RE GONNA BE FINE"


	9. Hope

**Some people have been asking about where the Olivia/John relationship is going… So if you're going spoiler free, then ignore the rest of the bold writing!**

**Well, in true Fringe-style, I'm not giving anything away – but I will say that at this point both John and Peter are interested in Olivia, and well, how can anyone resist either of them, really? You'll just have to wait and see where it goes. There's going to be plenty more of Charlie's friendship, because I miss him terribly. This is going to be a long and turbulent few months of training for the Fringies. Poor Olivia is going to have a really tough time over the course of this fic – but that's no surprise, is it? Hopefully I can balance out the sad times with romance and random funny moments, like the robot wars (WTF?) **

**Lyrics are from Push by Matchbox 20**

Olivia shuddered into wakefulness. Her night had been a restless one, but at least it was the weekend. She forced her eyes open and saw through blurry vision something on her wall. Blinking and looking closer, she recognised Charlie's scrawled "YOU'RE GONNA BE FINE". She breathed in relief at his sweet message, and considered herself lucky to have such a considerate roommate. But this moment of grace was short-lived. As her fingers traced the indentations on the paper, she could no longer deny that yesterday's events were real. Lucas was gone, and he was never coming back. It hurt more than she expected it to._  
_

She shook her head. No, she wasn't going to let this break her down today. Lucas just wasn't worth it. Besides, she had to meet John to study for an assignment in a couple of hours. But there was something she had to do first - she needed to apologise to Peter. She pulled herself from the warmth of her bed and took the bus into Quantico, where she found that, as usual for the mornings, the Whitehorse was empty except for Peter wiping down tables, music playing in the background.

_She said "I don't know if I've ever been good enough  
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in"_

She was hesitant to approach, but when he raised his head and saw her standing at the door, the only thing she saw in his eyes was a humble understanding. "Hey," he said, pulling up a chair for her. He gave her a delicate smile, but she could barely bring herself to look him in the eye. Olivia Dunham could handle any confrontation, but apologies were definitely something else. She took a leap of faith and approached the bar.

"Take a seat," he said. "You look tired."

"I didn't sleep very well," she forced out.

"I can imagine," he said. "Coffee? It's a little early for your usual."

She nodded and he started to prepare drinks for them. She watched his behaviour – how patient he was with her this morning, how empathetic. This wasn't how someone with no knowledge of her situation would act.

"Charlie told you, didn't he?" she asked.

"Would you have wanted him to?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she mumbled. She would have preferred to tell Peter herself, but she knew Charlie had good intentions – he probably wanted to save her the embarrassment of this apology, not that it was working.

"It was only the bare minimum, I promise. It was my fault, really – I forced it out of him." He handed her a cup of coffee. "And for what it's worth, Livia, I'm really sorry that it happened." He got no response from her, so he persisted. "Hey," he murmured letting a couple of his fingers rest lightly on the back of her hand. "I mean it."

_I don't know if I've ever been really loved by hand that's touched me,  
well I feel like something's gonna give and I'm a little bit angry  
_

She just gave him a grateful look and cast her eyes down at her coffee, barely able to stomach it. "I owe you an apology," she said earnestly. "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I - "

"I get it," he said. "Don't worry about it, you were it a bad place. It's forgotten."

"Don't," she said, cutting him off. "Don't make excuses for me. I'm not here to justify how I treated you; I'm just trying to explain why. And I know that's not good enough, because you've done a lot for me this past month – for all of us, really. And I'd like to hope that you still want to be friends."

He wanted to laugh at how hard she was being on herself, but then he remembered that everything probably looks worse than it is when you're boyfriend abandons you for a warzone. He sat down next to her, with his coffee, so that their shoulders bumped. "Of course, Livia," he said with a smile. "How could I not?"

_This ain't over, no not here, _

_not while I still need you around  
You don't owe me, we might change…  
_

_Yeah we just might feel good_

She wordlessly expressed her gratitude, running her fingertips around the rim of her coffee cup. They fell into a compassionate silence, and after a few minutes, Peter cut up a blueberry muffin and placed it in front of her. "You should eat something," he said.

She was grateful, but could barely look at the food. "I can't."

"Try."

She nodded and went to pick up a piece. He noticed her hand was trembling as she started to eat. "Hey…" he murmured. "Livia…This wasn't your fault."

"I know. I don't need you to tell me that," she said, probably a little too harshly. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist, self-conscious of her shaking hands. "Look, I'm sorry, I should probably just go. I'm no good at sitting around."

"You're also no good at letting people help you."

"You're right. I'm sorry," she said. "For everything." She rose from her seat and gathered her things. "Yeah, I should just go. I need to meet John soon anyway."

"Right, John…" he trailed off. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that, so she let it go.

"I'm sorry, again." She struggled with what to say. "Thanks for the coffee. You've given me more than I deserved today, so thank you."

He exhaled. "You deserve more than you know, Olivia."

He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. At first, she flinched slightly, but once he felt her melt into his hand, he pulled her close. Things had always made more sense between them without words. This was the first time they'd hugged, and although it didn't last long, he marvelled at how soft she was in his hands. He felt that beneath her tough exterior was a very real tenderness - something breakable - and beneath THAT, something tough, fiery and raw, like scar tissue. He let her go, and watched as she brushed back her hair and pulled her jacket on, mentally hardening herself. He stood amazed at how she could make that transition – if you saw her on the street you'd think she was invincible, and in a sense she was. It was only clear to the few people who looked closely enough that she was made that strong only through some kind of suffering she didn't deserve.

When she started to go, he merely said, "Liv, the worst part's over…Take care of yourself."

"You know I will. I always do. Thanks again," she said, and began her journey back to the Academy. She went to the top floor of the library and sank into one of the beanbags there, pouring through her Constitutional Law textbook. Everyone was having trouble with Sanford Harris' class, but for some reason she had been doing particularly badly – by her standards, anyway. She worked and worked on her essays, but he continued to mark her more harshly than was justified. She couldn't tell whether he just hated her or if he was like that to everyone. She sighed. All this was WAY harder than college.

Out of nowhere she felt two strong hands cover her eyes from behind. "Guess who?"

She laughed, pulling his hands away. "John, I know it's you. We arranged to meet, remember? That trick doesn't work if the other person's expecting you."

"Well, I had to try," he said with a grin, jumping onto the beanbag next to her. "How are you, Liv?"

"OK."

She expected him to act all worried like Charlie and Peter, but he didn't. He merely gave a sincere smile and nodded. "Good," he said. That surprised her. He didn't push. He wasn't relentlessly concerned. She was grateful for finally being given the chance to just be.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For not asking if I'm sure."

He humbly smiled again. "How you deal with this is up to you, Olivia. I'd hope that our friendship has evolved by now to the point where if you needed help you'd just tell me. But you're strong, Liv – a hell of a lot stronger than most people give you credit for. So if you say you're OK, then I'll believe you until you give me a reason not to." He gathered his books on the table. "That being said, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Right now, I just want to work – get my mind off things."

He smiled. "Well, that sounds like a plan, seeing as both of us are getting crappy marks. Harris is a royal pain in the ass, I don't know how that son of a bitch is getting away with - "

"SCOTT!"

Olivia and John looked at each other in fear. They knew that voice, and it wasn't happy. John gulped and turned in his beanbag to see their PT instructor, Mitchell Loeb (a.k.a. "Scream") glaring at John.

John squirmed. "Yes, sir."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ABOUT ONE OF YOUR SUPERIORS THAT WAY!"

"Sir, this is a library - "

"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME, SCOTT! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR ATTITUDE. I'D EXPECT BETTER FROM A MARINE. I WANT TO SEE YOU 30 MINUTES EARLY NEXT LESSON AND IT'LL BE THE WORST HALF HOUR OF TRAINING YOU'VE EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE, DAMMIT! UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes sir."

When Scream smiled it was ugly and mischievous, like he was plotting evil schemes. As he walked away, he called back "DON'T THINK I'LL FORGET, SCOTT. IF YOU DON'T SHOW UP, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"

When he was gone, everyone was staring at them, and John buried his face in his hands, groaning. He looked up to find Olivia barely suppressing her amusement. Then, she couldn't hold it back any longer – she just burst out laughing. He felt terrible about just being yelled at, but he loved that fact that she was laughing, today of all days. He couldn't help but start laughing too.

"Oh my God," she said. "I had no idea he was even there."

"I know, right? I swear that guy just shows up everywhere. You never know when he's standing right behind you."

"I can't wait to see you're face at training. The guy's gonna eat you alive."

"Gee, thanks, Liv. Nice moral support."

"You didn't even say anything that bad. He just looks for any excuse to torture the new recruits."

John leaned in closer, his face displaying mock-terror. "Shhhh…" he whispered. "Do you think he's watching us?"

Olivia glanced around. "I dunno… There are a lot of bookcases in here. He could be hiding anywhere."

"Anywhere…I'm so dead." They both burst out laughing again. Eventually they caught their breath. "Come on," John said. "As much as I hate to spend my weekend studying, we need to get this Bill of Rights essay done."

"This is true," said Olivia, and they headed off to find some information for their assignments. They searched for books, and John made a real effort to keep her laughing, making jokes and starting paper ball fights through the cracks between the books. Eventually they found what they needed, and they started to walk out of the library. It was late afternoon by that point, and the air was starting to cool pleasantly.

"What were your plans for tonight?" John asked.

"I don't think I have any. I guess I'll just go back to my room and study."

"We've been studying all afternoon. Come on, Liv, you need to get out, have a change of scenery."

"What are you suggesting?" she asked, wary of his motives. Although she trusted John, she'd always noticed that Charlie was more protective of her when he was around – which made her wonder if there was something going on she didn't know about.

"How bout we call Charlie and see if he wants to go for a drive, grab some dinner?"

She felt relieved that he suggested Charlie come with them. "Where did you have in mind?"

"I found this pizza place on the way in from Maryland, it's right by a lake and everything. Just a quiet night out, you know?"

"I dunno…" she baulked. "I have a lot of work to do."

"Olivia," he said, the sincerity in his voice when he said her name stopping her in her tracks. "Let me cheer you up. It'll be fun. Please?"

"OK," she relented. "Thank you, John."

"Don't mention it," he said, and he called Charlie. Fifteen minutes later, Charlie met them at John's car - it was an old run-down Ute but it was better than catching the bus, and all three of them could squeeze in the front without a problem.

As they started driving out, Charlie turned the radio down and addressed them. "John, dude, I heard about Scream giving you an earful in the library. I wish I was there, man."

"You don't, trust me," Olivia smirked. "It was mortifying."

"Imagine what it gonna be like when he tortures me. I'm seriously considering fleeing to Mexico," John said.

"I can't wait till next lesson, man," Charlie said, grinning. "I'll show up early too, just to watch you squirm. Liv and I'll just be chilling on Little Hill with a video camera and a bowl of popcorn laughing our asses off while he's making you dead-lift 500 pounds for half an hour. Hilarious."

"I'm so glad I've got a friend like you," John said sardonically.

They eventually reached the pizza place John had mentioned earlier, just on the outskirts of Quantico. The other thing they noticed was a sign for a bowling alley further down the road. They made a note to visit it sometime. They got some pizzas and then stopped by a 7-Eleven for slurpees and marshmallows. Finding a quiet spot by the lake, the three best friends settled on some logs, and Olivia got out her Zippo to start a campfire.

"You smoke?" John asked.

"Do I look that stupid?" she grinned.

"No, you don't - which is why I'm curious about the lighter. Is it a lucky charm or something?"

"It just comes in handy sometimes, I guess," she said, wondering how much more to say. She bit her lip. "Plus, it was my Dad's."

"That's nice, that you carry it around and everything," he said.

"Yeah, you'd freeze to death otherwise," she said once she got the fire going.

"Hey!" John protested. "I can start fires with sticks. I was a boy scout. Best one in my squad, too."

"You were a _boy scout_?" Charlie laughed. "That explains SO much."

"What? Plenty of people were scouts as kids."

"Yeah, maybe in Maryland," Charlie snickered. "I'm from Brooklyn. You know, where the _cool_ people live."

"Come on, Maryland's not that bad!"

"Anyone who says that is from Maryland, Jarhead!"

"Boys, that's enough!" Olivia laughed, stepping between them. "Surely you can continue this later. Come on, I'm starving."

They settled around the fire with their pizzas, roasting marshmallows over the flames. The lake was tranquil and quiet, allowing their laughs and teasing comments to carry out across the water into the night. Occasionally, they'd see a squirrel running across the grass, but they were otherwise all alone out there – it was both beautiful and creepy.

"So…" Charlie said, his mouth full of pizza. "Is this the part where the serial killer comes out of the woods with a machete?"

"Dude, don't even joke about that," John said. "They never caught the Zodiac killer and isolated youths were his favourite choice of victims. Liv's in trouble, though – in horror movies the pretty girl always gets killed first."

"That's not true," Olivia said, brushing off his latter comment. "The drunken moron college guy gets killed first."

"Guess that means you're going first, Charlie," John chuckled.

"Oh, you're hilarious, Johnny boy." 

Watching these guys bicker about the most ridiculous things never ceased to make Olivia smile. Letting a chuckle escape her, Olivia lay down on the grass, staring up at the stars. She never thought she'd feel this good tonight. Peter and Charlie were relentless in finding out how she was feeling, and while she was grateful for the concern, she was incredibly thankful to John for allowing her to feel like herself again. He hadn't treated her like nothing had happened, but he hadn't acted like it was the end of the world either. She was still feeling the sting of Lucas' rejection, but her world felt like far less of a nightmare now as it did when she woke up this morning. She tugged on the sleeve of John's jacket. He turned and set his kind blue eyes upon her questioningly. "Thank you," was all she said.

"Hey, thanks for coming. It wouldn't have been as fun without you here. You too, Charlie," he replied casually, and he and Charlie joined her on the grass. They watched the stars like that until they lost track of time. John and Charlie continued to find something to laugh about, but Olivia could already feel herself getting drowsy. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the last couple of days had taken a lot out of her.

Charlie noticed and poked her gently. "Livvy, you hanging in there?"

"Just a bit sleepy…" she muttered.

"Guess we better head home," John said. "It's getting late."

They packed up and squeezed back into John's Ute, starting the half hour trip back to the Academy. As Charlie drove, Olivia slipped into a peaceful sleep, resting her head on John's shoulder. John looked down at her, seeing that a lock of her hair had fallen over her face, and it was all he could do not to brush it behind her ear. Still, he kept his hands to himself. His primary duty was as her friend, and he respected her too much to consider taking it further, at this point anyway. This young woman did not need a protector. She didn't need someone to make her happy, or make her strong. She didn't need someone like him. She was unstoppable. But in that moment, as she rested gently against him, he wished that one day, when training was over, they could be unstoppable together, and take on the world - solving mysterious cases, kicking ass and taking names.

John sneaked another glance at her and smiled to himself. Yeah. He loved the thought of that.

**Don't forget to review! : )**


	10. Work and Family

**Author's Notes:**

**The discussion about Beth's surprise birthday party is from one of the opening scenes of The Dreamscape where Olivia is getting dressed for a party and Broyles calls her in to work. Did anyone else think Olivia looked beautiful in that scene?**

**Rachael and Olivia's Aunt Missy is referenced in an opening scene of The Transformation**

Charlie and Olivia were eating pancakes for breakfast out on The Ledge when her phone rang. She politely excused herself to go outside and answered it. "Hello?"

"Liv! It's Rachael."

"Oh, hey! What's wrong, is everything OK?"

Rachael laughed. "What, I call and you assume something terrible has happened? You're so serious, Liv. Cheer up, Emo."

"Sorry, Rach – and stop calling me "Emo". You make it out like I'm suicidal or something."

"You're right – you're not an Emo, I just like teasing you. But I have to admit, when you're really mad you can get a little homicidal, rather than suicidal. I make a note to always run away."

"Well, that's fair enough. So what's up? How are you?"

"I'm great, everything's great. Livvy, I have some news."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! Greg and I are getting married! Can you believe it?" Olivia swallowed. She didn't know what to say. The last thing she wanted was for Rachael to end up with a guy who adored her one day and then ignored her the next. It's not that Greg was abusive or anything – he was just unreliable. "Liv? You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry, Rach. I'm still here. Wow, you guys are really getting married? When?"

"Next month. We don't want to wait, you know?"

"Wow, that's so fast."

"I know it seems that way, but it feels perfect for the two of us."

"Rach, are you sure you're ready for this?"

Rachael's tone dropped from euphoric to defensive. "Gee, Liv, you could at least pretend to be happy for me. I don't think that's too much to ask from my sister."

"Rachael, I am happy for you. I really am. I just want to make sure you guys aren't rushing it, you know? I mean, you only just turned 20. You have all the time in the world to get married and have kids and all that."

"This is my decision, Olivia."

"I know it is, and I'll support you if this is what you really want."

"It is."

"OK. In that case, I'm sorry. I was just a little shocked, I guess. I'm right behind you on this, Rach. If this makes you happy, then it makes me happy too. I really mean that. Have you told Mum yet?"

"Yeah, she's so proud."

"I can imagine. I bet she's going to take over all the planning stuff. You guys probably won't have to organise anything."

"I know, right? She's already talking to me about flowers and dresses. I think she's imagining this huge wedding extravaganza but really we just want something small. It's all we can afford anyway. Everything's so expensive."

"How small? I'm still invited, right?"

"Of course, Liv! What kind of a sister do you think I am? Actually, I was meaning to ask you, do you want to be my maid of honour?"

"Woah, Rach, are you sure? That's such a huge gesture. And isn't it tradition that the maid of honour should already be married?"

"Screw tradition, Liv, you're my sister. I'd really love you to do it."

"Of course," said Olivia. "Of course I'll do it. I'm so honoured, Rach. Thank you. Although I have to wonder if this isn't all some con just to get me into a dress."

"Don't exaggerate, Liv, you're not that much of a tomboy anymore, and you look AMAZING when you do more than just roll out of bed in the morning. I bet you're a closet girly-girl."

"Give me a break, Rach, when was the last time you saw me in a dress?"

"Uhhh, that'd probably be Beth's surprise birthday party for Bobby, after you guys graduated. You wore that black dress and curled your hair and everything. You looked gorgeous, babe. Lauren's friend Craig couldn't stop hitting on you, even though Lucas was right there. Do you remember Craig? He's from South Africa?"

"Yeah, I remember him. That was a fun night, actually. I really miss those guys. I haven't spoken to any of them in ages."

"Yeah, it's sad how that happens, huh? Speaking of long-distance, how's Lucas?"

Shit. She still hadn't told Rachael about Lucas. It had only been a week since it had happened, and although she initially didn't want to tell Rachael because of the reaction she might get, she honestly did forget to tell her. And now she was going to pay for it – big time.

"Uh, we broke up."

"WHAT? That bastard! When?"

"Last week. It's not a big deal anymore."

"When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I'm sorry. I meant to call but things have been a little crazy."

"What happened? I thought you guys were working things out. Who dumped who? Why? You have to tell me everything."

"It was a mutual decision," Olivia lied, wishing she didn't have to keep talking about Lucas. She just wanted to forget it ever happened and move on. "He's being deployed to Germany next week and then the Middle East after that. It was just going to get too hard, in the end. It's better this way. I think part of me knew for a long time that our romantic relationship was long over. It was more the fact that I'd lost my best friend that kind of hurt. But, you know, it's over now, and I'm on top of it."

"God, Liv…I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought up Greg."

"Don't be silly, you're getting married. That trumps whatever dramas I'm having. I'm OK, I promise. If I wasn't I would have called you when it happened."

"OK…I know you don't like to talk about this kind of stuff. Sorry if I kind of bombarded you with questions there. I just want to make sure you're OK."

"I'm fine, Rach, thank you. The Academy can be a living hell sometimes, but I'm managing, we all are."

"It'll be worth it in the end. Just imagine yourself in a year's time, with your badge and your gun and everyone calling you 'Junior Agent Olivia Dunham.' You'll be kicking criminal ass in no time, sis. I know it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think I kind of needed that."

"No worries. Listen, I have to go, Mum's calling me to go looking at dresses for all of us, but I'll keep you in the loop, OK? And I promise I'll get you a pretty pink gown with tonnes of bows and everything."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh yeah? Make a bet?"

"No, Rach, you can't! I'll never forgive you!"

"I'm just kidding, Liv, jeez. OK, I promise to get you a nice, simple dress as long as it's not black or grey. It's about time we broke you out of that greyscale colour palette. Deal?"

"Deal. I can live with that…I think."

"Excellent. I can't wait. I'll let you know as soon as we have a date so you can get the weekend off. Do you want to invite some of your Quantico friends?"

"Are you sure, Rach? I mean this is your wedding – the guests should all be people you actually know, especially if it's just going to be small. It wouldn't be fair."

"Don't worry about it, I want you to have a good time, and it'd be good to meet some of your friends. Bring one of your hot FBI boys as a date!"

"You've never seen them, how do you know if their hot or not?"

"Are they?"

"You know I can't answer that, they're my friends. It'd be weird to think of them that way."

"You know, if you did have a date, Aunt Missy probably wouldn't harass you so much about when you're going to get married. People always do that when you're at someone else's wedding."

"Eugh, kill me now. I think if I had a date with me she might even harass me more. You're worse off than me, though - she'll start bugging you soon about when you're gonna have kids."

"God, she's relentless, isn't she?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm hanging up now, Rach. Give Mum my best for me. Tell her I'll call her in a few days."

"OK, bye Liv."

Olivia hung up the phone and bit her lip. Rachael was marrying Greg. Damn it. She went back outside to Charlie. "What's up?" he asked her.

"Rachael's getting married," she replied, her tone dead.

"So why the long face, Livvy? Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"You remember how I told you what her boyfriend was like?"

"Yeah, I remember. You think she's making a mistake, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Olivia said. "But I can't tell her that. He's going to hurt her, Charlie, I know he will. But she loves him too much to see it. Marrying him is what she wants, and as her sister, I'm supposed to support her. But the thing is, I don't know how to be a good sister to her without being a liar."

"You don't have to be a liar, Livvy. Just respect her enough to let her make her own decisions, even if you know it's the wrong one. You can tell her how you feel, but in the end you can't make her choices for her. It's her life. You can't protect her from every mistake she'll make."

"I know."

"You OK?"

"Yeah, thanks Charlie. Come on, we'll be late for Psych."

As they set off for class, Olivia couldn't get Rachael out of her head. She had really wanted to tell Rachael that there was no way she should marry Greg. He was never going to change his ways - not even for her. Now all she could do was worry that this was going to end badly, and that her little sister would never recover. She sat through what should have been her favourite class, but felt that she could barely concentrate. At the end of the lesson, Colonel Jacobsen called after her so she could stay behind for a moment.

Olivia approached his desk hesitantly, knowing that he was too observant for her to be able to use the "I'm fine" routine. He looked at her warmly, like a father would. "Olivia, how have you been finding the class?"

"I love it."

"Not too easy for you?" he joked, knowing she'd already studied some of it at Northwestern.

"No," she smiled slightly. "It's still hard enough. I'm handling it, though."

"Usually, yes - but not today."

"I apologize, sir, I'll do better - "

"That wasn't an accusation, Olivia. I'm asking because I'm concerned. You seem upset. What's bothering you?"

She bit her lip, knowing that she couldn't get away with telling him anything less than the truth. "It's just home stuff."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No. Thank you."

"It's difficult to deal with family issues when you're so far away. I'm married, and it's never easy for Jessica and I to be apart – unfortunately it's a necessity of the job sometimes. I know how hard it is to feel like there's nothing you can do, being a long way from home. Let me know if you need an extension on your deadlines or anything, if it's something serious."

"It's not. I just worry too much sometimes. It really is nothing to be concerned about."

"Well, that's good to hear." He took a breath. "This school breaks a lot of people. Every student is smart, they're all good kids – but what determines who passes and who doesn't is whether or not they have the drive to work harder than anybody else here. The ones who go on to join the Bureau are the ones who don't just want to win; they want to be the best. Maybe I'm speaking too soon, but you seem like one of the good ones, Olivia. You're certainly one of my best students. Attentive, intelligent, relentless…You'll make a good agent someday, I'm sure. But the reality is, you have to jump through a lot of hoops to get there. So keep up the good work, but don't be afraid to ask for help. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Grateful for his insight, she left to go to Harris' law class with John and Charlie, who were waiting outside. "Hey Liv," said John. "What did Jacobsen want? Is everything OK?"

"Everything's fine," she replied. "I can't say the same for you, though. Don't you have Loeb's torture session in an hour?"

"Don't remind me."

"I'm just pissed he's not letting anyone watch," said Charlie. "I can't wait to hear what he does to you, though. I bet he's going to make you do push-ups while he sits on your back or something equally excruciating."

"You can joke all you want, Charlie. I'm resigned to my fate at this point. Speaking of Judgement Day, Harris said we're getting our Bill of Rights essays back today."

"We better get good marks for that," Olivia said. "You know, after all that study we did in the library and everything. I swear that guy's been giving me bad marks for no reason."

"I think he's just a hard man to please," Charlie reasoned as they found their seats in the classroom.

Minutes later, Harris walked in and the room went deadly quiet. He began to toss essays back to each of the students, marching around the room in all his intimidating glory. "Here are you marks back for the last assignment. Mostly disappointing. A fair few of you are going to have to work a hell of a lot harder to…."

Olivia stopped listening. Her whole brain zeroed in on her score. She'd passed, which in itself was a relief, but it was no where near the mark that she deserved, considering how hard she'd worked. She heard Charlie's gravelly whisper in her ear. "What'd you get?" They showed each other their marks. "How did I beat you?" Charlie asked, shocked. "That's impossible. You get this stuff way more than I do and I only wrote my essay like the night before it was due. Something's up with that mark, Livvy, I'm telling you."

She nodded, not sure what to make of it. She and John looked at each other's marks. They had studied together for their essays, but his mark was considerably higher. "Woah, Liv, what happened? That doesn't make any sense."

"This has been happening all semester," Olivia muttered. "At first I thought he was being hard on everyone but this is getting out of control. Look at the end of his annotations. He wants me to do _extra credit hours_ to make up the marks."

"That's bullshit, Liv."

"Frankly I don't care enough to argue with every student who feels I'm being unfair," Harris continued, raising his voice over the class's whispers and groans. "If you've got a problem with the mark, send me an email or take it up with Broyles. Now, onto today's lesson we're going to be recapping what we've learned about Constitutional Law…"

"Oh, he's not getting off that easy," Olivia said.

"What are you going to do?" asked John.

"I'll stay after class, see if he'll talk to me."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Livvy?" Charlie responded. "What if that just makes things worse?"

"If I keep going this way I won't be in the top half of the course. I have to try."

"You want me to stay and hold him down so you can beat him up?" John joked, trying to cheer her up. "Harris is an idiot. You're smarter, you're stronger, and you're much better looking. He's jealous." He saw that she was still worried about her marks. "Hey…You're gonna work this out."

Olivia just nodded, and looked through her essay over and over again, finding no fault with it. When the end of the class finally came, she hastily packed her things. "I'll see you guys at the Whitehorse later. Good luck with Loeb, John."

"Thanks Liv, good luck with Harris."

"You're gonna be fine, Livvy," said Charlie.

She thanked them both and as everyone left, she went charging up to Harris' desk as he was preparing to leave. "Agent Harris," she called, but he didn't respond. "Harris! Can you stop?"

"What is it, Dunham?" he said, irritated, as he set his things back down on his desk. "As I've already said, I just don't have the time to mark people's essays twice, so you got a problem? Take it to the course coordinator."

"Your note said you wanted me to do extra credit?"

That got his attention. "That's right. I'm concerned for you."

"Why? I have worked harder than half the people in this class, and I'm just as capable as any of them - "

"Well, you're marks aren't reflecting that, Miss Dunham," he stopped walking, facing Olivia head-on and towering over her.

"Then what am I doing wrong? Because I've looked through your annotations and they seem to be contradicting what's actually in the essay."

"Listen, Dunham, you contribute in class enough for me to see you have potential, but you've got to put the effort into your written work - which is why it's become necessary for you to do extra credit hours. But quite frankly, I think that even then you'd be wasting your time."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

He leaned in closer – much too close for her comfort. She'd heard some of the older female students say that he could get really sleazy, but she'd never seen that side of him up close and personal until now. Trapped between him and the desk behind her, she could almost feel his breath on her face, and she fought the urge to squirm. She stood her ground, chin up. She would never let this son of a bitch see her scared.

"Well, _Olivia_," he hissed. "This job is intense, and agents need to be able to separate their work from their personal life. And if I recall, the week this assignment was due your boyfriend left you, is that correct?"

Olivia gulped. Although she'd come to realise that the lecturers kept close watch on all of their students, she never got used to the times when they admitted they knew things about her they hadn't told them. "Yes, that's correct – not that it's any of your business."

"Well, it is my business, _honey_, because I need to know that you won't let emotion cloud your judgement and so far you've failed that test at every turn. And I know you _girls_ are bad at that but if you want to be here you're gonna have to suck it up."

"This has got nothing to do with my ability to pass this course," Olivia spat, struggling to keep her cool. "This is about something else. This is about some kind of personal resentment -"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, because right now, you are acting emotionally." He looked her over, still in her face, leering. "Look, you can color this any way you like, Dunham. But I am still your superior and that extra credit time is a direct order." He smiled, seedy and underhanded. "You know, the Bureau's no place for a pretty little thing like you." He reached his hand out to her and she instinctively shrunk away from his touch, soon finding she didn't have much room to move. As if for no reason but to scare her, he tried to tuck some hair behind her ear, but she brushed his hand away.

"Are we done?" she asked steely. She moved to leave, but he still blocked her path. She tried again. He wouldn't budge, still standing over her. "Do you mind?" she spat.

He smirked down at her and moved enough only to let her _just_ brush past him. Gritting her teeth and giving him the best death stare she could muster, she fought the itch to run as she left the room. Once she was out, she took a deep breath, and it was only once she closed the door behind her that she realised her hands were shaking.

**Please, pretty please review! It makes me write faster, I'm not lying. **


	11. Inertia

**Author's note:**

**The Dexter reference is for cariocalee : )**

**John's hero speech is borrowed from the Season 3 promo**

Olivia's fists were clenched in her pockets as she walked past Markham's Book Store towards the Whitehorse, and her breath came trembling visibly in front of her in the cold night air. Although she wanted to just forget it, she kept replaying the confrontation with Harris in her mind. It was enough to make her sick ten times over. When it happened, she was more than a little shaken, although she'd hid it well. But now all she could feel was bitter anger. She'd fought for years to be taken seriously, especially by men, and now some misogynistic bastard was potentially threatening her career.

Going to Broyles about it would probably make things worse seeing as they were such good friends. Besides, she had no proof – he hadn't actually _done_ anything, and what he said he could always deny. He'd made his point clear – if she was going to pass his class she'd need to make him happy – but who knew what that was going to cost her?

As the reached the door of the bar, she took a breath and sturdied herself, preparing to meet her friends. Inside, the air was at least ten degrees warmer, thick with music and laughter, and she found Charlie and the others lined along the counter with Peter. _  
_

"Hey Olivia!" said Astrid, the cutest smile adorning her face. Olivia couldn't help but return it. Everybody loved Astrid.

"Hey," Olivia replied. "What's up?"

"John called," said Kent. "He just finished up his punishment training session with Loeb. He's coming over here soon."

"He didn't sound too good," Amy said.

"I bet he got his ass kicked!" Charlie exclaimed, hysterical. Anything to do with John getting hurt or suffering some kind of moderate misfortune cracked him up, but John was the same way with him. Amy and Astrid both slapped Charlie playfully on the shoulder and told him to be nicer to John. Olivia just smiled and shook her head. Boys…

"Hey, Peter," she said as she sat down. "How's you're night so far?"

"It's not bad. At least I've got you guys here to chat to while my little minions actually serve people. I love being the manager. Once it gets busy, I'll have to actually work, though."

"I bet you give your employees all the awful jobs, huh?"

"That's the only way to do it. Hell, I don't want to have to clean up every time some army brat paints the bathroom wall with his vomit."

"That's an image," Olivia cringed.

Peter laughed. "It happens all the time. But hey, you guys probably see worse stuff at the Academy all the time, right?"

She chuckled. "It's just photos for us; the Forensics kids have it way worse. Poor Astrid, she actually has to be around bodies all the time."

"It's weird, though, she doesn't seem like the type to find that kind of thing interesting. I kind of pictured Forensic Science to be the kind of course all the Goths and Emos flocked to."

"Have you met John's roommate? The one who can't stop talking about blood spatter?"

"Oh, you mean Dexter? Of course. He's a little creepy, actually – and not in a good way. You know, I read somewhere that cops and criminals have almost identical psych profiles. Ever considered a life of crime?"

"No dental," she quipped. "No, I've known I've wanted to do this job ever since I was nine. I always felt like I was meant to protect people, I guess. What about you?"

He just smiled and cryptically stated, "It was a long time ago." She nodded, allowing him to leave it at that. "So what are you after tonight? Just the usual?"

"Uhh, no, can I get a Red Russian, please?"

He looked up from the glass he was cleaning. "Bad day?"

She shrugged. "Just stressed. This place…It's just harder here than I thought it would be. Did you hear Rachael's getting married?"

"No kidding. Isn't she only 19?"

"She just turned 20, but it's still too young, by my standards."

"Will you be able to go?"

"Yeah. We're allowed one three-day weekend to go home over the five months of basic training. It's better than nothing. I should be able to get to Boston and back in time. It'd be good to see Rach and Mum again…" she trailed off.

"But…"

"But the guy's a jerk. Same old story, right?"

"You worry a lot about the people you love, don't you?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Sometimes I feel like if I don't do it, nobody will."

"So," he said as he handed her the drink he had masterfully concocted. "If you spend so much time and energy caring for other people, who cares for you?"

"Have you met me?" she laughed. "I can handle myself. Besides, I'm not some recluse who's burnt all her bridges just so she can be alone. And the way you and John and Charlie care about me goes to show that all that worrying I do is reciprocal."

"Well, that I can't argue with." He gave her a charming smile. He found himself staring at her as she smiled and took a sip from her drink, but was broken from his reverie when a customer called him over. "Excuse me, I've got to go serve this guy," he said as he walked away.

"Hey Livvy," Charlie piped up, bringing her back into conversation with the others. "How did it go with Harris?"

"He wants me to do extra credit hours, but I'm going to go to Broyles about it. I don't think the bastard even read my essay."

"That guy's a creep," said Amy. "I'm so glad he's not my teacher. A couple of the older girls warned me about him when I first got here. He's horrible to everyone but especially to the girls."

"What do you mean?" asked Astrid. "Like, sexual harassment?"

"Yeah, and the rest."

"If it's so common, how come no girls ever report it?" asked Brandon.

"Sex crimes like harassment and abuse are the least-reported crimes we know of," said Amy. "They're hard to prove, hard to prosecute, and it's especially hard for victims to have to retell what happened. It's a humiliating process, like the women are weak because this happened to them. It's even worse for male victims."

"It's like what Jacobsen always says in psych," Kent mentioned. "As cops we should refer to people who experience sexual violence as rape _survivors_ rather than rape _victims_. It helps filter out some of the stigma."

"Still, shouldn't someone stand up to this guy?" asked Charlie. "I'd crucify anyone who did something like that to Sonia."

"What's the point?" muttered Olivia as Peter rejoined them. "Whether or not we become Federal Agents depends on the approval of men like Harris. It's hard enough to pass this course even on a level playing field. To me, it'd be worth putting up with his chauvinist bullshit if it meant I made Secondary Training, as long as it stayed verbal. If he did ever actually _hurt_ me or someone else I'd report it, though. It sucks, but that's the way it is."

"Wait a sec," Peter interrupted, now back at the table. "Are you guys talking about Agent Harr-asment?"

"Yeah."

"Why? Did he do something to one of you girls?" he asked, worried.

"We were just saying how he wants Olivia to do extra credit hours coz he's been marking her badly," said Amy.

"Which means I'd have to do extra work or filing for him in his office to make up the marks – and the last thing I want is to spend a few hours alone with that son of a bitch." Olivia said. "I just stayed back after class to talk with him about it. He's…insistent."

"You talked to him _alone_? What did he say to you?" Peter persisted.

"Nothing," she lied.

"Olivia, what did he say?"

"Nothing! We just argued about my marks."

Peter's jaw tightened. "You girls be careful around him, and under no circumstances be alone in a room together," he warned. "That guy's violent."

"How do you know all about him?" Charlie asked.

Peter was gripping the counter now, his knuckles turning white. "Girls may not talk to the cops about this kind of thing, but they do talk to each other, and on a really bad night, they'll even talk to the bartender. From what I've been told, Harris is the kind of psycho who fucking_ likes_ kickback, and if a girl's feisty enough to intrigue him, his exploitation doesn't stay verbal for very long. He targets girls who are the most determined to pass because he has emotional leverage over them. I think he's disgusting."

"So how come you never reported it?" Olivia asked steely, her stomach twisting in knots.

He sighed. "The girls begged me not to. They thought it would cost them too much. But I encouraged them to tell someone. You know, often with these things all it takes is one person to speak up for all the other victims to come out of the shade. So when you are reporting something like this, you're not just doing it for yourself. You're doing it for the next girl he goes after, and for everyone else before you." He released his hand so he could run it over his head. "Just be careful, girls, OK?"

Olivia was getting really uncomfortable now. She was even more confused than before, and she just wanted to get it all out of her head. "Come on, let's not talk about this. Screw Harris – I just want to have a good time tonight. Hey, did you guys know my sister's getting married?"

Astrid squealed, and everyone blocked their ears. "Astrid, stop! My brain is haemorrhaging!" Brandon exclaimed.

"Sorry," she said. "That's just so exciting."

"I know, right?" Olivia said, grateful for the distraction. "It's happening next month. She said you guys are welcome to come. But I understand if you don't want to waste your one weekend-off coming to Boston."

"I'd love to come if I can," said Astrid, grinning from ear to ear. "I love weddings. Let us know when you have a set date."

Peter raised his head and started laughing. "What?" Olivia asked.

"Look behind you."

Sure enough, John was stumbling into the now crowded bar, barely able to walk. He looked exhausted and in pain, his body stiff and rigid. He hobbled to their table and cringed as he sat down next to Charlie, who was already in hysterics.

"Don't even start, Charlie," John said.

"Dude, what happened to you? You can barely stand!"

"Yeah, probably because of the punishment training Loeb just put me through. I swear that guy does not even need an excuse, he's a fucking sadist. He made me run cross-country, do push-ups with his foot on my back, suicide runs, shuttle runs, you name it. It was awful. Peter, I need some alcohol, now!"

Olivia scanned his injuries. Most of his pain was from over-worked muscle, but she noticed the back of his shirt was stained. "John, you're bleeding."

"Still? Damn it. I scraped my back when I fell on a rock on the cross-country run. I thought it had stopped bleeding. No big deal."

"If you scraped it on a rock there could be grains in the cut we need to clean out. Peter, have you got a first aid kit?"

"Livia, I run a bar for cops and military wannabes. It's in the back room," he said, reaching into his pocket for the key. "Head past the bathrooms, third door on the left. The kit's on top of the cabinet."

"Thanks," John said, taking the key.

"John, you can't reach the cut by yourself. Come on, let's go." She weaved in under his arm to help him walk, and they headed off down the corridor.

Peter looked on as they shuffled away, and couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the thought that Olivia was under John's arm and not his. What bothered him more was that he knew something had happened between her and Harris that she wasn't telling him about. He shook his head and got back to mixing drinks.

Meanwhile, Olivia and John were looking for the back room. John looked down at her, still with his arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, Liv."

"You did the same for me – on that first run when I busted my ankle."

"I remember. Hey, I heard Rachael's getting married soon."

"Yeah, in a few weeks. You want to come? She wants me to bring some FBI friends along so she can meet them. But it's hard when everyone only has one weekend off."

"I'll have to see what happens. But then again, most of my friends are still in combat and I don't know that I want to spend all three days of freedom being with my Mum. Maybe I can squeeze in a day in Boston on the way back."

"That'd be good," she said as she unlocked the door to the back room. In it there was just a desk, a cabinet and tonnes of files – mostly for taxes and supply orders. John rested against the desk as Olivia found the first aid kit. "I can't believe he did this just because you bitched about Harris."

"Ah, I've had worse."

"Seriously?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, no," he admitted with a charming smile. "I'm just trying to sound like a tough guy."

She grabbed some alcohol wipes and stood closely behind John. "So where are the cuts? You've only got a couple, right?"

"It's just my back and a couple of smaller scratches on my head, from the branches."

"OK, let's start with you're back then." Her fingers rested on the hem of his shirt. "Do you mind?"

She was just going to lift it up enough to access the cut, but instead he winced and pulled it all the way over his head. She couldn't help it, but her eyes roamed his body, taking in every inch of muscle. She had to admit, John was good-looking, but because they were friends it was only in extreme cases like this that she actually noticed. Hesitantly, she let her fingertips rest on his skin, and she felt him shiver beneath her hands. "Sorry if I'm cold," she said.

"It's OK," he said. In truth, the feel of her touching his skin was anything but cold. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that she was a friend. Olivia blushed as she touched his back, thankful that she was standing behind him and he couldn't see her. She shook her head to clear it and started cleaning his scrape. He flinched. "Sorry, tough guy," she muttered.

"I'm fine, you just do your thing." He chuckled. "So are you going to be a bridesmaid or something?"

"She wants me to be maid of honour."

"That's pretty cool. What if she makes you wear fluoro orange or something? You're worst nightmare," he joked.

"Hey, as long as it's not pink."

"I think you'd be cute in a little pink dress."

She laughed. "You're such a jerk."

"With frills and ribbons?"

"Shut up."

"A little tiara?"

"John, I'm warning you…"

"Sorry, I just want to make a contribution, coz I'm gonna want photographic evidence of Olivia Dunham wearing - "

"Dammit, Scott! You know full well I can kick your ass even in a dress."

"Alright, alright. I'll stop teasing you, jeez. I thought you chicks loved dreaming up weddings."

"Not me."

"Not even when you were a little girl?"

"When I was a little girl I dreamt about saving the world," she said honestly.

John smiled. He could imagine that. "Is Rachael having a hens night?"

"Maybe, I don't know. If there is, I probably won't be there for it. Why, were you looking to crash it? There's no boys allowed at a hens night, you know that."

"Not unless I go undercover as a cute bartender," he turned and winked. "You think she'd hire me?"

She burst into laughter. "My guess would be no. Stay still."

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little offended," he joked, theatrically gesturing to himself. "I may not look like much in the Academy uniform, but I scrub up alright in a suit. Suave and sophisticated, some might say. Irresistible, even."

"Liar. You may be suave and sophisticated, but I can resist you just fine."

"Well then there's something wrong with you, clearly. Hold on, did you just _admit_ that I can be suave and sophisticated?" he asked with a grin.

"You're shameless." She finished placing a bandage over his wound and stepped around to see what the cuts to his head were like. The view of him shirtless was better from the front, but she bit her lip and forced herself to look up. He just had a couple of scratches around his hairline – nothing to worry about, but it was best to clean them anyway.

"Did you talk to Harris?" he asked.

"Yeah," she muttered. "No luck. I think I'm just going to talk to Broyles."

"Good," he said. "I hope that helps."

"Yeah, me too."

She began cleaning his wounds, using her other hand to gently steady his face. "What is it then, Liv? You seem upset about something."

She sighed. She hadn't wanted to talk about it with the others, but she knew John would do the right thing if she told him what happened. "Just Harris…he…"

"Liv? Did he say something to you?"

She could barely look at him, and kept focusing on the task at hand. "Not really, it was all really implicit, but…I don't know, he was trying to intimidate me… He didn't _do_ anything…I mean, he blocked my path and tried to touch my hair, but that's all…I brushed him off, and I was angry…but, I was _scared_, John. And I hate myself for that."

He gently held her hand still, stopping her from cleaning his skin and forcing her to look at him. "Don't," he whispered, their faces not far apart. "Don't ever be ashamed of being scared. Being scared means you care, it means you have something to lose. It's like…The difference between a hero and a coward…they're both scared…it's what a hero does that makes them a hero. You're can handle this. I won't push you to report him if you don't want to, but Charlie and I will be by your side in every one of his classes. It's OK to be scared, but, Liv, don't you dare let a bastard like him make you question what you're made of."

She looked into his eyes and she noticed how piercingly blue they were, but also the gentleness in them – it was a rare balance. John had a quiet intensity she'd never seen in anyone before, like he was a walking oxymoron. In that moment, something she couldn't define or place made her compare him to Lucas. She had always been a little inept at this kind of thing, but John was straight-forward, decisive, charming, and no matter how bad her day was, he made it his mission to make her smile. It was wonderful to see him in that light.

"We should get back to the others."

"Yeah, we should…"

Now there was a certain kind of look between them. It was _that_ glance between two people: the kind where both want the same thing, but neither wants to initiate it. Finally, John decided to bite the bullet, leaning in to kiss this girl he had so swiftly fallen for over the course of their short friendship, and was shocked to find that she was leaning in too. "John," she whispered against him, sending tremors through his body. Just before they made contact, the door burst open, and they sprang apart.

Peter stood still in the doorway. "Hey," he said. He hadn't seen anything, but he could tell that he'd interrupted _something_ – he just couldn't tell what. Olivia blushed and continued to pack away the kit as if nothing was wrong, and Peter laid a glass down on the table. "Thought you could use a Russian, John. You look like shit."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"You guys finishing up soon? Coz Kent's doing some slightly drunken acrobatics outside."

"Yeah," Olivia said. "We were just coming out." She packed away the first aid kit and brushed past the two men, desperate not to look at either of them as she rejoined the buzzing atmosphere of the bar. She ran a hand through her long, blonde hair and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

Shit. What the hell had she gotten herself into now?

**Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Ps. If you have experienced sexual violence or harassment, I encourage you to learn more about it and consider talking to someone who will be able to help you. Here are some websites to get you started:**

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	12. It's All About Perception

**Authors Notes:**

**I'm so sorry this took so long, I've had tonnes of work at uni**

**The NO SLEEP pills are referenced in Bad Dreams**

Olivia stood in the Newton building's semi-crowded elevator, full of dread. She had just finished her Human Trafficking class, and now she had Counter-Terrorism with Broyles. She loved his classes, but she was going to have to speak to him about what was going on with Harris, even though it was probably a lost cause. Also, she was bound to see John in class. On top of that, they were all going bowling tomorrow night with Peter at a place his friend owned. And quite frankly, after the events of yesterday, she didn't want to be seeing any of these people any time soon, but she was going to have to face them all.

Yep, this was going to be an awkward and awful day. It would have been better if she'd just chucked a sickie. She groaned. The elevator doors opened and she was surprised to find Charlie on the other side, munching on a doughnut. He smiled and squeezed through the bunch of people to stand beside her. "Hey Liv!"

"Hi," she replied dimly.

"You want a doughnut?"

He shoved one in her face, and the smell of it, along with the motion of the elevator and her hangover from the night before, was enough to make her cringe. "Eugh, no thanks."

"Excellent. More for me!" he mocked, grinning through his food.

"You're disgusting," she muttered. "There are food scraps all over your side of our flat. Can you clean it up or something?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Wait a sec, what are you even doing here? I thought you didn't ride elevators on principle. All that talk about tough people only taking the stairs…"

"Shut up, Charlie."

"Someone's testy this morning…"

"Yeah, well, it's 10am, I'm still hung-over from last night, I just got another assignment in HT, I have to go talk to Broyles about Harris and I'm on my way to my hardest class in an elevator full of military brat drones." She glanced at the others. "No offence."

"Well, I'm off to my favourite class, where everybody likes me and I'm riding in an elevator with my friend and trusty roommate. It's all a matter of perception, Livvy." The elevator sounded a ding as they reached their floor. Charlie grinned and allowed her to step out before him. "Come on, Liv, we have a great day to get on with." On his way out, he turned to the others in the elevator. "Hey, everyone, have a great day!" The others smiled and nodded as the doors closed behind them.

"You're a good guy, Charlie. You make the people around you feel good." Olivia chuckled sardonically as they walked down the corridor towards their class. "But what's with all the positive thinking crap? You reckon you're bloody Confucius or something?"

"Hey, I'm full of wisdom. I'm better than Confucius. I'm…I'm Yoda."

"What are you so happy about, anyway?"

"I have hope, Liv. I have hope."

"No, seriously…"

"Oh, nothing much, I just got off the phone with Sonia, that's all. She just puts me in a good mood, I guess."

"That's nice." She squinted under the fluoro lights and she groaned again, rubbing her temples.

"No offence, Liv," Charlie said. "But you look like micro-waved crap."

"However bad I look, I feel worse." She glanced at her reflection in a classroom window. She brushed her hair back a bit and she looked OK, but her eyes were still really red. "Shit, I can't go to Broyles looking like this."

"What happened last night, Liv? I know you can drink a fair bit sometimes but last night you got really shitfaced. Almost as bad as when Lucas left. What was bugging you?"

"Nothing," she lied. In truth, it had been a mixture of work stress, Rachael getting engaged to a sociopath, Agent Harris-ment giving her a hard time and her awkward situation with John and Peter – but she could never tell him that. "I just got a little more pissed than usual. Stressed out, I guess. So what if I drank a bit? It's just how I deal with things sometimes."

"Right, yeah. I think they have clubs for people like that," he teased.

"Oh, shut up and eat your doughnuts."

"Gladly." He dug through his backpack and pulled out a small packet, handing it to her. She read the label: _NO SLEEP Caffeine Pills_. "Take a couple of these. They work better than coffee." She gave him a suspicious glance, wondering how he got into taking these. He caught her look and got defensive. "Hey, you try working the beat at 3am in Brooklyn. A guy needs his energy hit. I guess I just got a little too used to taking them and couldn't stop."

"You know, they have clubs for that," she quipped, swallowing the tablets.

"OK, now you're just being a smart-arse."

They found their seats and dread started to flood Olivia's mind again as Broyles began the lesson, resuming their unit on terrorist cults. She was barely listening, though. All she could think about was what she was going to say to him after class and when the damn caffeine tablets were going to kick in. John scrambled in late and sat in his usual seat next to her, which made matters both better and worse. As he settled beside her, he gave her his usual close-lipped smile. She gave the same smile back. She didn't feel like smiling at all on a morning like this, but it was _John_ – she couldn't help it.

She averted her gaze ahead to Broyles as he continued his lecture. But she couldn't escape the feeling of John next to her, or the sound of the steady swell of his breathing. John's arm and hers lay next to each other on their adjoining desk, so close that only the hairs on their skin made contact. Before this, she had never really understood the phrase: so close and yet so far. The electricity of the almost-contact was borderline unbearable. She chastised herself for thinking this way and tried to focus on the many more important things she had to worry about, but it didn't help much. After a few minutes John, still looking at the front, stretched out a single finger and let the tip of it trace the edge of her wrist, so subtly that it could have been an accident. She shivered, the shock of it sending her reeling. She pulled her hand away and started scribbling notes, trying to keep herself from blushing and refusing to look at him. She couldn't let herself lose control like this. After all, she was only here to pass the course, to achieve her goals. She wasn't going to be distracted just because a certain guy was sitting next to her, like some silly high school girl. She was 22 for goodness sake, a college student on her way to becoming a federal agent. She was better than that.

After an hour of awkwardness, finally the class was over and she gathered her things. "Hey guys," said John. "Sorry I was late."

"No worries," Charlie replied.

"Are you still going bowling tomorrow night?"

"Sure," said Charlie as he left. "I'll see you later."

"Liv?"

She forced herself to look up. "Yeah?"

"You coming tomorrow?"

"Umm, yeah, sure."

"Good," he said. "Are you going to talk to Broyles?"

"Yeah, I should, probably."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

She was taken aback a little. She had no idea how he could be so casual after last night, but him being so at ease was starting to relax her. Maybe it wasn't as catastrophic in real life as it was in her head. "If you feel the need, sure."

He nodded, again with that gentle close-lipped smile that was only his, and hopped down the steps of the lecture theatre. She sighed and went down to Broyles' desk. He raised his head, "Ah, Dunham. I was meaning to speak with you."

"You were?"

"Yes. You're essay on the Aum Shinrikyo subway terrorist attack was outstanding. Your other teachers tell me you've been doing very well. It's expected that you'll pass the next cut-off of students without too much trouble. You're in the top quarter of the course"

She tried to contain her shock and pride. The top quarter? "That's great, sir. I had no idea, they haven't posted any rankings yet."

"Well, so far you seem to be an exemplary student. You've been doing some solid work here at Quantico. We're impressed." He pulled on his suit jacket and looked on her intently. "What can I do for you, Dunham?"

"Sir, as I'm sure you're aware I've been having some issues with my Law class."

"Yes, I noticed. Do you not understand the content?"

"No, that's the thing, sir. I understand it just fine. But I feel that my lecturer's been harsher on me than I deserve, and now it's gotten to the point where I almost failed an essay and he wants me to do extra credit hours, which is ridiculous considering how well I've been doing in everything else. He said if I wanted the marks checked I should go to you."

"Well, struggling in a subject as basic as this one does seem a little out of character for you. I'll take a look at your essay, but I'm not making any promises."

"Thank you, sir," she said, handing him her assignment.

"Remind me, who's your lecturer?"

"Sanford Harris."

He looked up from her essay, eyes narrowed. She saw something in his expression, like a frustration, but more like he'd been in this situation before. His jaw tightened. "Like I said, Dunham," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not making any promises."

She was taken aback, but tried to stand her ground. "Either way, sir, I appreciate you taking the time."

"Is there anything else?" he asked. His words were considerate, but his expression seemed intimidating, like he already knew what she was _really_ there to complain about.

She debated silently over whether she should tell him about Harris' actions yesterday, but decided against it. It was obvious just from this interaction where his loyalties lied. She bit her lip. "No, that's all, sir."

He nodded. "I'll be monitoring your progress, and I'll be sure to let you know what happens with the marks," he said as he put her essay in his briefcase. "Now go on, Dunham, I'm sure you have a class to get to."

She left then, not quite sure what to make of his reaction. Something told her he'd had other girls in the past complain to him about Harris, but telling Broyles would probably do nothing except ensure that she failed the next student cut-off, and from what Broyles had told her, that was something she really didn't need to happen.

As she went outside, she realised that she'd completely forgotten that John would be there waiting for her. She bit her lip and readied herself for a confrontation. She was usually an expert at confrontations, but not about things like this. "Hey," she said.

"How'd it go?"

"Better than I expected. He said I'm doing really well - aside from Law, that is. Top quarter."

"Top quarter? Liv, that's amazing. You must be so proud!"

"I guess. I don't know how long it'll last, if I piss off Harris or Broyles. I only complained about the marks though. There's no point in endangering my rank until the other stuff becomes a real issue."

"Well, I'm proud of you, Liv. I'd be shouting from the rooftops if I was doing that well." They headed out of the building and began to walk through the grounds towards Little Hill. "So he's going to look at your work?"

"He said he would, but who knows, right?"

"Well, you've done all you can do." He squinted a bit in the sunlight and took his jacket off. "Beautiful day, huh?"

She stopped walking. It took him a few steps to realise, but then he turned and looked to her. "Liv?"

"You tried to kiss me last night. At the Whitehorse."

"Yeah, I did." His expression was warm, earnest, and stable. She couldn't understand how he could say that with such certainty – with no embarrassment or anything - because inside her own head was a raging whirlwind. They were great friends, but last night she'd been presented with a possibility she'd hardly considered, and now she had no idea if staying just friends was what she wanted.

She smirked. "That was a big deal."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, it didn't happen, so I just let it go."

"John, I've been sort of bad at this, for a long time -"

"Don't stress, Liv. I get it. I was exhausted. You were emotional. I'm not going to lie to you and say that that's all it was, because I do like you. I have for a while, but being your friend is more important to me." He gestured between them. "Just this, you know? Just us. Things are great the way they are. So let's just let it go. If something happens, it happens – if it doesn't, it doesn't. No pressure for more. If that's what you want."

She nodded, relieved. This is exactly the kind of thing that made John stand out – he always seemed to be on the same page as her, and if he wasn't, he made sacrifices and put himself there. He had a great way of calming people like that. "We do make a good team, don't we?" she asked.

"Hell yeah," he said. "And we're going to smash everyone at bowling tomorrow night."

"You might. I don't know anything about bowling."

"I'll teach you. I used to do it a bit as a kid, with my brother."

"Yeah, well I guess you guys have nothing better to do in Maryland, right?" she teased.

"You're starting to sound like Charlie."

"He's taught me well," she said. "You know Peter's going to be there."

"So?"

"It's awkward."

"It's only awkward if we make it awkward, Liv. Last night you proved to be an expert at that, by the way."

"Sorry. He walked in on us, though. He didn't see anything, but I think he knows."

"He doesn't know," said John.

"Well, I think he does."

"If he knew, I'd have a black eye."

She laughed. "Peter wouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't have any reason to. We're just friends, I promise, John."

"I know you are, Olivia. But that doesn't mean he's not protective of you. Besides, if you're just friends, there's nothing to worry about, is there?"

"Right…" she replied. "Listen, thanks for being so good about this, but I really need to go to class."

"OK, well, I'll see you later, then, yeah?"

"Of course, John. Thank you." She reached up and hugged him warmly, and he responded by holding her close. As he breathed in her scent and felt the softness of her hair on his hand, he was grateful to God that this girl was in his life. She let him go and as she lingered near to him, she smiled. She didn't smile enough, he thought, and he was glad that she was smiling because of him. As he watched her walk off and disappear over the other side of Little Hill, he felt that his life was good. She hadn't run. They were still friends. And he wasn't going to pressure her for more. If she did decide to move things along, she would ask for it in her own time. He wasn't going to push her. Because, frankly, he thought to himself, she was definitely worth the wait.

**Thanks for reading : )**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

**Coming up next, the gang meet Sam Weiss, and Peter makes an appearance…**


	13. When She Smiles

**Hey, guys, sorry again for the wait! Uni is killing me! **

**Hope you enjoy this one : ) Just another example of Peter Bishop being generally awesome.**

"I can't believe I let you drive," John said to Charlie as he looked up from his map. He, Liv and Charlie were squished into the front seat of John's dusty old Ute together, struggling to find an address that Peter had given them for the bowling alley his friend owned. "You really should give back your licence. You're a menace to the community."

"I'm from New York, OK? We take a cab or we get the subway. We don't drive."

"Yeah, well for a guy who's from New York you have a terrible sense of direction. I should have let Liv drive."

"Hey! I offered," Olivia said defensively, watching the argument go back and forth between the guys in amusement.

"I know to ask you next time, then. He can barely stay on the road."

"What road?" Charlie scoffed. "We're practically going cross-country."

"Yeah, because you got us lost!"

"I did not get us lost, we're taking a scenic detour."

"Scenic detour my ass, Francis, you were reading the map upside down! That's why I had to let you drive, so I could navigate."

"Give me a break, OK? I can't see anything out here," said Charlie as he squinted behind the wheel. "I'm gonna run over a bloody deer or something."

"You better not," snapped John.

Charlie scoffed again. "Gee, John, I had no idea you were such a conservationist."

"I'm not. I was brought up hunting in Maryland. Sure, I'd feel bad if a poor deer ends up as road-kill but I'm more concerned about you getting blood and Bambi-brains all over my windshield," said John.

"Yeah, that would be a damn shame, with this piece of crap you call a car being so new and clean and everything," Charlie teased sarcastically. "I'm just saying, man, you need to clean it once in a while. It's freakin' embarrassing."

"Oh, well, get out and walk, then, I don't want you to get dirty."

"Why don't _you_ get out and walk, John?"

"Because it's my freakin' car!"

"Should I go get a ruler?" Olivia quipped.

"Wait a sec, there it is!" Charlie exclaimed, seeing neon lights in the distance. "See, John, there's hope for me yet," he added with a cheeky smile. Olivia just laughed in the wake of their tornado. Charlie and John always bickered about something, but it was all in good fun. Even though they were constantly teasing, they were best mates, and nothing would ever change that.

They pulled into the small car-park outside Sam's Bowling Alley. As they went in, they noticed that it was practically deserted. A middle-aged man who was polishing the counter called over to them. "Hey, kids, if you wanna bowl, we're closing in ten."

Olivia continued to walk in anyway, her eyes scanning the room for Peter. The guy at the bench smirked. "Can I help you with something, princess?"

"Sorry, I'm just looking for a guy."

"What, the ones you came with don't take you're fancy?"

She chuckled. "Someone specific."

"Ah, then I see your dilemma. But like I said, we're closing."

"You own this place?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"So you're Sam Weiss, then?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Blondie. What's with the third degree, you a cop or something?"

"Not yet."

He stopped cleaning to take a good look at her. "Yeah, I'm Sam. Who are you?"

"We're friends of Peter Bishop's."

"Who?"

"Peter Bishop."

"Don't know the guy."

"Well, Peter Bishop knows you."

"Lots of people think they know me, love. Or that they recognise me from somewhere they can't place," Sam said, gesturing to himself. "I guess I just have one of those faces. But no, Peter Bishop doesn't ring a bell."

"You're yanking my chain, right?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Can you just cut the cryptic Yoda crap and tell me if he's here?" Olivia said, starting to get frustrated.

"Ah," Sam smiled knowingly. "Let me guess – you're Olivia." She relaxed and gave a hint of a crooked smile. Sam turned his head to shout out through an open door behind him. "Hey, Bishop! Your girl's out here!"

"Sam, for the last time, she's not my…" Peter walked out of the storeroom to see the three recruits staring at him. "…girl."

"Of course not," Sam said, handing a set of keys to Peter. "I'm gonna leave you kids to it. Stay as long as you want, you've got the place to yourselves all night. Bishop, this place is my baby. If I come back and a single thing is broken or missing…well, they'd never find your body."

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Sam."

"Oh, and remember to lock everything up when you're done, and don't forget to - "

Peter groaned. "I can handle your precious bowling alley, now go away."

"Alright, alright. Have fun," Sam said, before turning to Olivia. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Blondie."

"Her name's Olivia, Sam. Show the lady a little respect." Peter intercepted unexpectedly, to everyone's surprise.

"Of course," said Sam. "Apologies, Olivia. Have a good one, guys."

As he left, Olivia turned to Peter with a you-did-_not_-just-say-that look on her face. "Jeez, Peter, you didn't have to bite his head off. You guys call me nicknames all the time."

"That's different. We're friends," Peter said. "Anyway, thanks for coming out, guys. I don't get a night off too often so it's good to finally get out of the Whitehorse every once in a while."

"We still have alcohol here, though, right?" Charlie asked.

"I'm a bartender. Do you seriously think I'd come unprepared?" Peter said. "Is it just you guys?"

"No, Astrid and the others are coming later," said John.

Peter got drinks and shoes for them all and, after some more intense banter from John and Charlie, they decided to play free-for-all rather than in teams. Peter and John were kind of masters at the game, whereas Olivia and Charlie weren't quite as adept – they didn't care, though, they were just playing for the fun of it. After a while, Peter went to get more drinks, but Olivia held him back. "Peter, what are you doing? This is your night off. Sit down, I'll get the drinks."

"Livia, it's fine - "

"Peter, seriously, can't you try not to be an awesome bartender for just one night?"

"Awww, you think I'm an awesome bartender?" He grinned at her.

"Shut up."

"Fine, fine, you can get the drinks. But next time make Charlie or John do it. It's not fair for you to do all the work either, you know."

"Peter, it's just drinks, you can relax. I'll be back in a minute, guys."

She headed off to the storeroom, and while Charlie was bowling, Peter and John were left alone together in their seats. John decided this was his opportunity to suss out whether Peter was competition for him over Olivia. Even John noticed that he seemed very protective of her, but then again, they were all protective of her – which annoyed her to no end, as she kept telling them, but they couldn't help it.

"She's a great girl, huh?" John said to Peter as they both looked on after her.

"Yeah, she is," he replied earnestly, downing the last of his beer. He couldn't help but keep replaying in his head what he'd seen the other night in the Whitehouse storeroom. He didn't see Olivia and John _doing_ anything, but he felt certain he'd interrupted something he probably shouldn't have. Peter wasn't sure what he was feeling for Olivia yet – whether it was just a basic attraction or something more – but he did know that the thought of Olivia with John didn't sit right with him.

There was nothing wrong with the guy. Peter recognised that John looked out for Olivia's best interests, he was smart, with strong principles, charming, a marine – basically the quintessential all-American man in uniform. He, on the other hand, was a reckless nomad with a shady past, just beginning to get his life back together. Why would the compassionate, brave, tour-de-force that was Olivia Dunham every settle for the likes of him when she deserved someone like John? He decided in that moment that if it turned out that nothing was happening with her and John, he would take the risk and work his way towards her. Otherwise, he'd let them be, as much as it could potentially hurt him to do so. He'd gotten into a lot of trouble in his last relationship, fighting violently with Michael over Tessa, but he hoped that in this case he would learn from his mistake, be the better man, and just walk away – for her sake if nothing else - even if it tore him up.

"It's a shame it's been so hard for her," John continued, trying to subtly press a reaction out of Peter, but Peter played it cool and casual as usual, giving him nothing.

"Well, if she's upset, she's not letting on. Are things getting any easier with that jerk of a teacher she has?"

"She's managed to get another teacher to re-examine all her essays so hopefully she'll get those marks fixed up. I just hope she get's Harris' request for extra credit hours wiped out. The idea of her being forced to do work after-hours with that prick gives me chills."

"Tell me about it. But hopefully it won't come to that. She's lucky, though, to have you and Charlie looking out for her."

John laughed. "Yeah, well, she resists us every chance she gets. She likes to fight her own battles, you know."

"Don't we all? But nobody lasts entirely independent of other people. Being fearless doesn't necessarily mean you're being safe."

At that point, Charlie and Olivia rejoined them, and they all got talking again. Soon after, the others arrived at the bowling alley, and before long, Amy and Astrid were enjoying themselves a little too much, torturing the boys by hijacking the jukebox and playing tonnes of newly released girly music.

_Making my way downtown  
Walking fast  
Faces passed  
And I'm home bound_

"Argh!" Charlie exclaimed, blocking his ears. "Astrid, turn this shit off!"

"Charlie, don't be mean, this song's really sweet," Amy said, standing her guard by the jukebox. "Right, Olivia?"

"Sorry, I'm actually with Charlie on this one. I hate this song with a passion. Actually, most of our generation's taste in music drives me insane."

_If I could fall  
Into the sky  
Do you think time  
Would pass me by _

Astrid and Amy started singing along to the song, and before long, Kent and Brandon added their terrible drunken singing and air-piano playing to the mix. "COZ YOU KNOW I'D WALK A THOUSAND MILES, IF I COULD JUUUUUST…SEEEEEE…YOOOUUUUUUUUU….TONIGHT! DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUUHHHHH…."

Meanwhile, John mimed shooting himself in the head.

"What do you listen to then, Olivia?" Peter asked curiously.

"Well, I'm not a real music buff or anything. That was always more Rachael. The only music I really listen to is what she and my Mum play. Mostly laid-back acoustic stuff or soft rock. It reminds me of home, I guess. What about you?"

"Oh, classic rock all the way," Peter said. "But seriously, there's not anything out these days you think is good?"

"Well, I dunno, I don't even really know that many popular songs these days."

"OK, I'm going to make it my mission to educate you," Peter said, pulling Olivia up off her chair and dragging her over to the jukebox. She scrolled through all the names of the artists but most of them she didn't recognise. Peter kept questioning her, making fun of her lack of musical knowledge. "Seriously? Counting Crows? Creed? Red Hot Chilli Peppers? Matchbox 20? None of these ring a bell?"

"Well, I like Counting Crows, but I don't know the others."

"Livia, these are essential bands of 2002!"

"I'm sorry! OK?" she laughed at how impassioned he was getting over this.

"OK, what's you're favourite Counting Crows song?"

"The Ghost in You. Either that or American Girls. Yours?"

"Mr. Jones. Obviously," Peter smirked. "Alright, well are there any songs in here you like?"

She continued to scroll through until she found one. "Uhhh, I know this one."

He looked at the title. "Huh. Not a bad choice. I actually really like that song."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Come to think of it, it sort of reminds me of you."

"Really? Why?"

He smirked, wishing he hadn't said anything. "It's nothing."

"Go on."

He inwardly sighed. When she looked up at him with those eyes, how could he say no? "It's just that you sort of carry the world on your shoulders sometimes, try to make things right for everyone. It's noble and everything, I get it. I just don't think you get to smile as much as you should, that's all." He said this so casually, as if it was a throwaway comment, but Olivia smiled to herself – it was a really sweet thing for him to say.

She checked her wallet. "Have you got a quarter? I'm all out of shrapnel."

"Sure, I've got one, but you'll have to work for it, first," he said, pulling a coin out of his pocket and deftly rolling it over his fingers to her amazement. He closed both his fists and asked her to guess which one held the coin. She pointed, only to have him open both hands, revealing that the coin had disappeared.

"OK, how did you do that?" she asked, astounded as he continued to show off coin tricks.

"Don't bother asking, I'll never tell. Besides," he said as he pulled it from behind her ear. "It's far more fun when it's magic."

She laughed as he finally handed her the coin. "Well, you should at least teach me how to do the rolling thing."

"Maybe one day," he said, as she slipped the coin into the machine and selected the song. They smiled, soaking in the sound of it, completely oblivious to the fact that John, sitting across the room with the rest of the guys, was eyeing their every move. But even if Peter was aware of it, he wouldn't care. Because he absolutely loved it when Olivia smiled.

_This is the story of a girl  
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world  
And while she looks so sad in photographs  
I absolutely love her  
When she smiles_

**Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Song lyrics are from: A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton and Absolutely (Story of a Girl) by Nine Days**


	14. Road Trippin' and Cow Tippin'

**Song lyrics from Road Trippin' by Red Hot Chilli Peppers**

It was too bloody early in the morning for this.

Olivia walked into the Whitehorse, bag packed for the closest thing she'd ever get these days to a road trip. She loved The Academy to pieces, but was glad to be taking the weekend off for Rachael's wedding in Boston. John, Astrid and Charlie all had people to see in New York, so they decided take time off together and meet up at the wedding and on the way home. Peter had offered to drive her to the train station, so he'd asked her to meet him at the Whitehorse. She found him stacking beer bottles behind the bench. "Hey," he said, raising his head from the bar, revealing his glassy morning eyes. "You got everything?"

"Yeah. Thanks so much for doing this, Peter. I really appreciate it."

"No worries. Do you want a coffee?"

She laughed and raised the two thermos-mugs she was holding. "Actually, I brought some for you."

"I'm touched, Dunham," he said, taking one. "We should get going. You have an eight hour train to catch."

Olivia groaned at the reminder of her long journey as they trudged out to his car. He didn't bother her as he drove, allowing her to fall asleep soundly beside him. When he stole glances to see that she was alright, he was struck by how at peace she looked. In the settings in which he had gotten to know her, she was a whirlwind – whether she was having fun with the guys, working hard or stressing out over something she felt too responsible for. But here, in the car, where nothing was coming after her and the guys weren't around to joke with…It was remarkable to see her so _still_.

She woke just as the sun was barely starting to rise over the woodland farms of Virginia. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Peter smirked next to her. She had a cute yawn. It made her look so young.

"Are we close?" she asked.

"Not remotely."

"Wonderful," she murmured, taking a swig of her now-cold coffee. She gazed sleepily out the window at the passing fields. "Look at all the cows."

"Yeah, we must have passed a thousand of them while you were sleeping. I always get a little nervous driving around them. It kind of got ingrained in me while I was in India."

"You were in _India_?"

"Rajasthan mostly - in the countryside. I was doing a Motorcycle Diaries kind of trip when I ran out of money, so I ended up getting some work there as a wild land fireman. The locals held cows as sacred, so I was convinced that if I ever hit one on the roads, I'd be lynched by an angry mob of Hindus. It never happened, but I guess I never lost the paranoia," he smiled, remembering the country fondly. "It's a pretty cool place, Livia. The people over there – they have next to nothing, but they're so much happier than anyone I've met in the US. It so beautiful it blows your mind. I'd kill to go back one day."

Olivia was secretly impressed by the passion with which he spoke. Despite having lived all over America, she had never been to another country – mostly because she couldn't afford it after paying off her degree. One of the things that drew her to a job in the FBI was the opportunity to learn languages and travel. It amazed her that Peter was still so young, but he'd done pretty much everything that a person could do. He lived with a type of freedom that was exhilarating, but also scary to her. He could probably leave Quantico tomorrow if he felt like it. Olivia wasn't like that – she had enough responsibility to weigh her down in one place for a thousand years.

He glanced at the cows again as he drove, and out of nowhere started laughing.

Olivia turned to him. "What?"

He smiled. "I just remembered something – when I was in high school my friends and I were driving around one weekend, and we ended up on a farm in the middle of the night," he laughed. "We just went around making baby goats faint until the farmer chased our asses out of there with a shotgun. It was hilarious."

"Making goats faint? How'd you do that?"

"When goats get scared they just sort of freeze up and fall over. It's really funny to watch. We must have spent a full hour in that field yelling at baby goats to make them fall over."

"That's so mean!" She laughed and slapped him playfully.

"Oh come on, we weren't hurting anyone. It's a natural defence mechanism that we took advantage of for our amusement." She still didn't look quite convinced, so he pressed on defensively. "Come on, Livia, are you telling me you've never done anything remotely bad?"

"I've done plenty of bad things, but not for any fun reasons."

"Seriously?"

"Peter, I spent most of my childhood either on military bases or at a strict Catholic boarding school. My Mum's religious. It's kind of been instilled in me to be good."

He laughed. "Strict Catholic boarding school, huh? That must have been fun. All girls, right?"

"Not exactly. The boys' school was next door."

"And anyone who was caught sneaking into the other school's dorms late at night was burned at the stake?"

"No, the girls were just locked in the dungeon until the end of their pregnancy and the guys were castrated," she quipped.

"Livia, don't even joke about that – you know that's a guy's greatest fear, right?" He glanced at her. "Did you ever try sneaking into a guy's room late at night?"

She laughed. "No way. I didn't have boyfriends in high school."

"Why not?"

"I kept to myself, mostly. The only guys who showed an interest were either really seedy or I just wasn't interested. But back then I generally didn't trust men from the outset. I went on a few dates early on in college, but Lucas was the only really serious boyfriend I've ever had. But I bet you had a whole slew of girls running after you in high school."

"Yes and no," he said honestly. "I had that whole 90's misunderstood bad boy look going on, so when girls finally got bored of the jocks, they'd start looking my way. But then they'd figure out that it actually wasn't cool to date an outcast, so they never stayed for very long."

Olivia was struck by that. Maybe in a different way Peter was just as lonely as she had been in high school. "But seriously," he said. "You've never done anything bad for fun?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Oh, that is unacceptable," he said, pulling over.

"Why are you stopping?" she asked as he got out and walked over to open her door and pull her with him into the cold air's pre-dawn glow. "Peter? What are you doing?"

"Come on," he said, pulling her towards the roadside fence of one of the farms and hopping over it. She glanced around, and seeing that no one else was there, followed Peter onto the farm.

"Peter, this isn't our property. We're going to get caught."

"Shush. You'll wake up the cows," he said as he stopped in front of one, inspecting it as it slept upright. "If you've never done something bad for fun before then cow-tipping is the perfect introduction to the wild side. Come over."

"Cow tipping? We can't do that!"

"OK, it is a little bit mean, but it's funny too, so just go with me on this, alright?"

"I don't know…"

"Are you chicken? Coz if you're too chicken we can keep driving…" he trailed off.

"Is that a dare?" she asked. He nodded. "Well, now I have to prove you wrong, don't I?" she said, taking her place beside the cow. They both placed their hands on its side, trying to stifle their laughter, and pushed against the sleeping cow. As they tried desperately to tip it over, it was too heavy for them, and all they did was wake it up. The cow was not happy, and chased them over the fence as they turned and ran to the safety of their car, lying back on the bonnet to look up at the disappearing stars while they caught their breath. They were both in hysterics, but especially Olivia. She wasn't used to being spontaneously ridiculous, but Peter had a way of making all things fun.

After they calmed down, they got back in the car and finally reached the station. Peter waited on the platform for her to make sure she got on safely. "I almost forgot," he said as they waited, pulling an iPod out of his pocket and handing it to her. "You can borrow this for the ride. I figure you could get a couple of hour's worth of music on the train before the battery dies. I put some songs on there I thought you might like, they're in a playlist under your name."

"Thanks so much, Peter." She fiddled with the huge mp3 player in her palm. "I've never used one of these. They're so expensive. I don't know anyone who owns one."

He showed her how to use it until her train arrived, where she thanked him sincerely with a warm hug. "Text me when you get there to let me know you're safe."

"I'll be fine."

"I know. I'd just prefer some conformation."

"OK, but you worry too much about me," she sighed. "I should go." She threw a sweet smile back over her shoulder as she boarded the train and found her seat, thumbing the confusing iPod until she found Peter's playlist marked "Olivia". She munched on a pack of M&Ms and soaked up the song, watching the sun rise over the passing countryside.

_Road trippin' with my two favourite allies  
Fully loaded we got snacks and supplies  
It's time to leave this town  
It's time to steal away  
Let's go get lost  
Anywhere in the U.S.A._

Let's go get lost  
Let's go get lost  
Blue you sit so pretty  
West of the one  
Sparkle light with yellow icing  
Just a mirror for the sun

_Just a mirror for the sun_

After eight hours, she finally reached Boston and caught a taxi to her Mum's house. On the way, she texted Peter: _Hey im safe n sound in Boston, thanx 4 the music : )_

A minute later she received her reply: _No worries. Give your sister my best wishes. Be safe, c u when u get back. Ps. try n have some fun, u deserve it : )_

She smiled and put her phone away as she reached the house, where her Mum and Rachael were waiting for her. There had apparently been relatives over all day to help prepare for the wedding, but they had left before she got there. Marilyn Dunham had been working like crazy putting everything together with Rachael, wanting to ensure that her daughter's wedding day was as perfect as possible. They had set up tables for the reception for about 80 guests in the large garden, which was beautifully decorated, even with lanterns and fairy lights in the hedges. Marilyn was an avid gardener anyway, so the yard was already beautiful, but now it was stunning. The three of them had coffee out there and caught up on what they'd missed in each other's lives.

"Are you still enjoying Quantico?" Marilyn asked.

"I'm loving it. But the course can get pretty stressful. We just had our first major cut-off of students, but thankfully everyone I know passed. I found out then that I was in the top quarter of the class."

"The top quarter! Oh, Olive, I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum."

"How was the trip up?" Rachael asked Olivia.

"Long, but it could have been worse, I guess. Peter drove me to the station, so at least I didn't have to get up even earlier and get a bus."

"Peter?" Rachael asked. "Wait, isn't he that cute bartender you were telling me about?"

"Yes, he's the bartender, but I never said he was cute, Rach. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Well, is he?"

"Rachael, leave your sister alone," Marilyn said, smiling at the 'rescue me!' look Olivia had shot her.

"Oh, I just remembered," said Rachael. "I need you to try on your dress, Liv. I had Jodie stand in for you when we got them because you two are exactly the same size, but we've got Marissa on call if we need to make any last minute alterations. Would you mind?"

"No problem, Rach. Where is it?"

"It's in your room."

Olivia walked up the stairs of her teenage home with mixed emotions. She felt nostalgic at seeing that not all that much had changed, but also felt a little bit of dread at the thought of what this dress might look like. She stepped inside her room to find that it was exactly as she had left it the last time she visited from college – her athletics and debating trophies from high school, her photos, her CDs and books – everything was in the same place. Then she saw the dress. She was surprised at how simple and elegant it was. Slipping it on, she found that it fit her perfectly and smiled at herself in the mirror. This wasn't bad at all. In fact, she kind of liked it. She carefully took it off and changed before heading back down to her family.

"Nice choice, Rach. You don't have to worry, it fits perfectly."

"That's great! I tell you, this wedding's been more stressful than I thought it would be! But the hen's night tonight should be a lot of fun. We're just heading into the city for dinner and drinks. Your coming, right, Liv?"

"Yeah, of course. It's going to be great seeing everyone again tomorrow. I can't remember the last time the whole family was together – all the cousins and everything."

"Yeah, we're really lucky," said Rachael. "All the servicemen managed to get leave for the wedding. And of course, I'm grateful you were allowed your weekend off and that some of your friends are coming too. Two guys and a girl, right? Are either of those guys potential husbands, Liv?" she asked cheekily.

"Rach, why don't you focus on your own wedding before you start planning mine," Olivia groaned. "Thanks for inviting them along, though. They've been great friends to me and I can't wait for you both to meet them." She yawned and shook her head to clear it. "Do you still need a hand setting things up here?"

"No, we've pretty much done everything that can be done before tomorrow," Marilyn said.

"OK, well do you mind if I duck out for a bit before we go out tonight? I have a couple of errands I want to take care of while I'm in town."

So Olivia borrowed her Mum's car and drove around the neighbourhood, glad to be back in a place she recognised as home. She picked up some flowers and went to the local military base. Her father was buried at the Arlington National Cemetery, but there was a plaque for him at all the bases in which he had worked. Boston was her father's home town, and this base was the one where he first graduated as an officer.

She made her way through the base, occasionally bumping into an old acquaintance, until she reached the memorial. It was a simple fountain with a statue, and behind it a wall with all the engraved names of the soldiers from the base who had died in combat. Her eyes went directly to her father's name. She made an effort to come here every time she visited, so she knew its position well. She laid her flowers at the base of the wall among other people's tokens of grief, and knelt down so she was at eye level with the plaque, running her fingertips along its engraving.

_Master Chief Petty Officer_

_Rick Samuel Dunham_

_Persian Gulf War_

_19__th__ of November, 1986_

She didn't remember much of her father, but when she was a child, she always missed him terribly. When she'd lie awake at night listening to her stepfather hit her Mum, she'd close her eyes and imagine she was with her father in sunny Florida. She saw Jacksonville every night in her dreams. If her father had never died, her whole life would have turned out so differently. And from what she did remember of her father, the last thing he deserved was to die as suddenly as he did.

Now, all she could think was that it was a real shame he couldn't see them now – that he couldn't see how well she was doing at Quantico, see how happy his wife was, or give Rachael away at her wedding.

Olivia took a breath. "Dad," she whispered in no particular direction. "I don't know where you are, or what I believe in…" She wiped a single aggravated tear from her cheek. "But I hope that somewhere out there I'm making you proud," she whispered, and letting her fingers drop, she closed her eyes, laying a simple kiss on the cold stone.

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	15. That night

**Mini spoiler: for those of you who are bugging that Peter isn't with them at the wedding…well, you'll thank me soon. **

Olivia and Rachael were all getting ready for the wedding in Rachael's room, with their cousin Jodie doing Olivia's makeup. "Liv, stop squirming, I have to make this look good," Jodie laughed, trying to hold Olivia's face still.

"I'm sorry; I'm not used to having other people manhandle my face."

"A little makeup isn't going to kill you," Rachael said. "Liv, you look good, just stay still so she doesn't poke your eye out with that liner."

Olivia sighed and surrendered her face to her cousin. "The things I do for you, Rach, really."

Her phone rang, and Olivia looked at the Caller ID to see that it was Peter calling her. Rachael also noticed this, looking over her shoulder, and squealed a little. "Ooh, it's the bartender. Pick up!"

Olivia groaned and rolled her eyes. "Hello?"

"Hey, Livia. It's Peter."

"Yeah, I know. What's wrong?"

He laughed. "What's wrong? Nothing's wrong. You're too serious, Livia. Hey, you ready for the big day?"

"Not quite, we're all getting dressed. My cousin hates you right now for calling coz she's trying to do my makeup," she said, smirking at Jodie.

"Well, give her my apologies. But you wearing make up? That I can't picture - though I'm sure you make it work."

"You're so full of it."

"Hey! What is it with you girls that whenever we give you a complement you never believe us?"

"Because guys are liars who only want one thing. You are occasionally an exception to that rule."

"Only occasionally? Ouch, Livia. I feel gutted."

"What are you calling for anyway? Don't you have a bar to tend?"

"Actually, I was calling to speak to Rachael, is she there?"

Olivia steeled. That, she wasn't expecting. "Uh, yeah, she's right here." She handed the phone to Rachael. "He wants to talk to you." She watched her sister accept the phone with glee and hoped like crazy that Rachael wouldn't say anything to embarrass her. She just let Jodie work on her face, trying to pretend like she didn't care that Peter was calling her sister. Something about it bothered her, but she didn't understand why.

Moments later, Rachael handed the phone back to Olivia, beaming. "He sounds cute."

"You're getting married in two hours. I guess you better get comments like that out of your system while you can," said Jodie.

Olivia rolled her eyes, but secretly questions were burning within her. "What did he say to you?"

"He just wanted to send his best wishes, for the wedding. He sounds like quite the gentleman, Liv. Remind me again why he's not tagging along with your little gang of FBI minions tonight?"

"He has to work. Bars don't manage themselves, Rach."

"Oh, he's the manager, too? Swanky…Why are you only friends with him?"

"Because we both like things the way they are. What's wrong with that? Can't a guy and a girl be friends these days?"

Jodie and Rachael shared a look and giggled. "Oh, honey, you may be only friends with him, but he is definitely not only friends with you."

Olivia scoffed. "And you know this, how?"

"Seriously? A guy calls your phone to talk to your sister? The only reason a guy does that is to make the girl he likes jealous."

"That's ridiculous. Peter wouldn't do that. And Rach, this is your wedding day, why are we talking about me?"

"I'm a little nervous," Rachael said honestly. "At least if I tease you it calms me down for a bit."

Olivia softened and took her sister's hand. "You're gonna be fine, Rach."

"Come on, Liv," said Jodie. "I need to get this makeup done. And please, for the love of all that is good in the world, try to stay still!" When Jodie was done, Olivia looked in the mirror and was stunned. Between the dress, the hair, and the makeup, she barely recognised herself, but she was surprisingly happy with how she looked.

When everyone was ready, they went over to the church, and the ceremony was beautiful. Rachael looked stunning and so surprisingly grown-up, and Greg actually earned Olivia's respect for once in the way he described her sister in his vows. The ceremony kind of made her think. She'd never been opposed to marriage on principle – it was more that she couldn't see herself being interested in marriage any time soon. She was only 22 after all. Still, as she looked around the church and saw how Rachael's family and friends had come from all over the country to celebrate her relationship with her new husband, she couldn't help but think that it must be wonderful to feel that loved.

After the service, she gave Rachael and her mother warm, heartfelt hugs before weaving through the small crowd to Charlie, who was at the back of the church. He looked her up and down and gave her a huge bear hug. "Look at you!" said Charlie, with his Cheshire grin. "Not too shabby, Liv."

"I could say the same, Francis. You're alright in a suit."

"Back off, Dunham, I'm taken," he teased.

"How is Sonya, by the way?"

"It was amazing seeing her again, Liv. You have no idea."

"I'm happy for you, Charlie. I know how much you missed her at Quantico."

He gave her a knowing smile and nodded. "Come on, the others are waiting at the car."

The four of them drove in Astrid's car to Olivia's house for the reception dinner. The sun was just beginning to set, and the garden looked amazing with all the tables and hedges illuminated by lanterns and fairy lights. Olivia introduced her friends to her mother and sister, and soon enough, John and Charlie were being avidly pursued by Rachael's unmarried friends, and Astrid was getting some attention of her own.

Olivia even bumped into a guy she knew in high school. His name was Will, and he had asked her to go with him to his school formal when they were 17, but she had politely declined. However, that didn't stop her from accepting his offer for a dance tonight. As they swayed to the music, they talked and laughed about old times, but she didn't know was that John was watching her from a distance, his heart swelling with a joy as intense as pain. While he wasn't happy at the sight of another man dancing with her and making her laugh, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Of course, he noticed that every day, but tonight she was beautiful in a different way – delicate, feminine and all dressed up – a side of her he had never before seen.

As soon as she finished dancing with her friend, he made his way over to her. "Hey," he said.

"Hey,"

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks, I'm OK for now."

He gave her a charm smile. "Come on, you're not craving your usual?"

"I'm not sure whiskey's quite the best thing to drink at your sister's wedding. But maybe another night, I'd be happy for you to by me some."

"At the rate you drink? No thanks," he teased as he got a glass of coke for himself.

"You're not drinking?"

"I had a couple of beers earlier, but I volunteered to be the designated driver tomorrow."

"Ah, how very responsible of you," she chuckled.

"Well, that's me – responsible." He finished his glass and braved his next question. "Would you like to dance?"

She eyed him carefully, biting her lip. "As friends?" she finally asked.

He smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, offering her his hand. She took it and they began to move easily together. It wasn't awkward like she expected it to be, although she was nervous about his intentions.

"How was New York?" she asked, trying to ease her timidity.

"Great," he said. "I got to see my brother – he works on Long Island. It was a lot of fun, actually. I'd never been to New York before. I tried to see as many sights as I could but I didn't get too far. I'll have to go back for longer next time I visit Justin." He paused and tried to ask his next question casually. "Who was that guy you were dancing with?"

"Oh, Will? I knew him in high school. It's funny, when I told him what I was studying; he looked at me like I'd suddenly grown a third eye. I guess the FBI kind of makes us freaks. Why'd you want to know?"

"I was just curious. It looked like you guys were having fun."

She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing how he felt about her. She hated the idea of someone being jealous over her as if she was something they could lay claim to, and frankly she had thought he was above that. "John, you didn't come over and offer me a dance just so you could plant a flag, did you?"

He looked taken aback. "Of course not, Livvy. I just saw that you were alone and thought it was an opportunity to spend some time with you tonight. Was I jealous? Sure, a little. I'm not proud of that, and frankly from what you've said I had no reason to be."

She saw the sincerity in his piercing blue eyes and couldn't help but soften. "John," she murmured against him as they swayed, "You should know I haven't decided how I feel about you yet. I love being your friend, but I don't want you to get your hopes up and think that I'm definitely going to come around, because I don't know if that's what I want. After Lucas, I - "

"You don't have to explain, Liv. I'll wait. And if you do decide you're not interested, then at least, even for a little while, I had a chance. And that's enough." He gave her the bittersweet, close-lipped smile that was fast becoming his trademark. "But for what it's worth, Livvy - as a friend - I think you look really great tonight."

Olivia's mouth went dry as she blushed. It didn't take him long to notice. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I went too far, didn't I?"

"It's OK," she said, knowing he meant well. She gave him a small smile and pulled away as the song ended. "Come on, let's go find Astrid and Charlie."

The four of them spent the rest of the night talking and laughing in one of the many alcoves of Marilyn's beautiful garden. They were the last people left in the early hours of the morning, and Olivia's mother insisted it was too late for them to drive anywhere, allowing them all to sleep in the house. When they woke, as a show of gratitude, Charlie and John packed away everything in the garden, while Olivia and Astrid cooked a huge breakfast for them and Marilyn.

"Thanks so much for coming, Astrid," Olivia said as she flipped pancakes.

"Oh, I had a great time! I love weddings. You're Mum did a great job and you're sister was gorgeous!"

"Yeah, it was wonderful. I'm glad all of us could make it. I would never have forgiven myself if I missed my sister's wedding because of training."

"Well, it looks like you had fun. I saw you dancing with John last night," Astrid said with a knowing smile.

Olivia brushed it off. "Yeah, it was nice," she said, talking like it was just a dance between friends at a wedding – which, technically speaking, it was.

Astrid glanced at Olivia as she scrambled some eggs. "You can tell he really likes you, right?"

"Damn, is it really that obvious? He only told me the other day."

"So you've talked about it? What did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. I mean, he's one of my best friends in the world, Astrid. How do you change that?" She bit her lip. "I don't know what to do. I have these two great guy friends and I've got the feeling they're both interested in me."

"Are you talking about Peter?" Olivia nodded, so Astrid asked, "Well, do you like either of them back?"

"I don't know. I know they're both good guys – good enough to not hurt me unless for some reason they had no other choice. But I thought the same thing about Lucas, and between him leaving and worrying about Academy stress, and Harris and Rachael's wedding…I haven't really been considering going there with either of them – not seriously, anyway. I don't know…"

Astrid tore off a bit of one of Olivia's pancakes to eat and gave a cheeky smile through the tendrils of her frizzy hair. "You know, if you can't choose, you can always move to Utah," she quipped.

Olivia chuckled slightly. "Well, there's always that."

"Seriously, though, Olivia," Astrid said. "Don't stress over it. If anything happens with either one, it'll happen in its own time, when you're ready. Olivia, you're one of the best judges of character I know. Trust you instinct. You'll know if it's right when the time comes."

"Thanks, Astrid," she replied. "And by the way, when you give advice, you sound like a fortune cookie."

Astrid giggled and the boys came back inside for breakfast with Olivia's mother, where they answered Marilyn's questions about the Academy and shared stories about their weekend away in New York. Eventually, they were all ready to start their long drive back to Quantico. As her friends were finishing packing up Astrid's car, Olivia stayed to say goodbye to her mother.

"I'm so happy you could make it, sweetheart. I know you were a little apprehensive about Rachael getting married, but you really supported her well yesterday. And you looked so beautiful, love," Marilyn said as she pulled her into a hug. "Thank your friends again for cleaning up for me this morning. I'm so glad you've got such nice friends all the way over in Virginia."

"It was our pleasure, Mum."

"Take care of yourself, Olive. I mean it. You know how much I worry when you're so far away."

"I know. I'll be OK."

"I love you."

"I love you too," Olivia replied as she gave her Mum one last kiss and left the home of her teenage years one more time.

The drive back took forever, but the four friends seemed to make the time fly. Before long, there was junk food all through the car from their various stops at petrol stations and fast food joints. They were driving all day, so Astrid and John took turns driving, as they weren't hung-over. When they were finally getting somewhat close to Quantico, night had already fallen and Astrid was fast asleep next to Charlie in the back seat, with John driving beside a sleeping Olivia.

Olivia woke to find the Charlie and John having one of their usual testosterone-fuelled arguments over something stupid. "Are you serious?" John was exclaiming to Charlie. "You do 800 sit-ups every day? Bullshit. There's no way you have time for that."

"It's true," Olivia muttered, eyes still closed but acknowledging that she was awake. "Not 800, but he does a lot. And we have a chin-up bar in the bathroom door he never lets go of. I have to tickle him just so he'll let me brush my teeth."

"That's not all," Charlie said. "I'm quite proud of myself, actually. On top of my usual routine, every morning this week I've gone for a run."

"Yeah, but unfortunately you keep coming back."

"Come on, John, the closest thing you get to extra-curricular exercise is a trip to the strip club."

"What can I say? Somebody's gotta visit your sister."

"I don't have a sister, dumbass, and don't you dare say you meant my girlfriend or I'll gouge your eyes out."

"OK, boys, this is getting out of hand again, break it up," Olivia said as she started to doze off again.

"Yes, Mum," Charlie teased. "John, you should thank God you have Liv to interrupt these little talks we have. It's only because you're her friend that I let you live."

"Likewise, Francis."

Olivia started to fall asleep, but she felt someone gently shake her shoulder.

"Hey Liv," she heard John say. "Liv, you awake?" She groggily opened her eyes to see John driving, smiling gently at her. "Stay up, Livvy, we're almost home."

But she barely heard him. All she could see through her blurry eyes was a growing white light through the window behind John. She blinked, clearing her vision. Two blaring headlights were speeding towards them, about to collide with John's door.

Her eyes went wide.

She screamed.

**Sorry for the cliffy! I love to watch you squirm, he he he**

**Ps. Now are you happy Peter wasn't at the wedding?**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Your words are music to my ears : )**


	16. Blasted

**10:21 pm:**

As Olivia regained consciousness, the pain in her body went from something abstract to something real. She took a panicked heap of air inside her chest. Everything was black. She opened her eyes and looked up. Night. Dying headlights flickering. The ground was cold. Her face felt sticky and wet. A metallic taste filled the cracks between her teeth. Her ears rang. Astrid was crying in the background, "Oh God… Please don't let them die…Oh my God…"

Charlie's face appeared in her line of vision. Crumbs of glass shimmered and fell out of his hair. Tears were in his eyes.

"Livvy?" He whispered. His gruff voice was rougher than usual. Raw.

She blinked. Couldn't speak. Croaked a little. Swallowed. "Char…?"

"Livvy? Thank God. Astrid, she's alive!"

Olivia groaned. Tried to keep her eyes open. "I…I can't…"

"Stay awake, Liv, I'm right here."

"I'm…c-cold."

"Hold on. The ambulance is coming."

Somewhere off, Astrid was screaming. "Oh my God, Charlie, he's still not waking up. John! JOHN!"

"Don't move your hands! Keep pressure on it!" Charlie yelled back, his voice strangled with fear. He looked over Olivia's body, his eyes wide. "Fuck…What do I do? What do I…?"

"Charlie…" Olivia mumbled, feeling herself start to slip into blackness.

"Livvy? Livvy! Nonono, don't close those eyes, baby. Look at me. Oh my God… Liv, stay with me. Please, Livvy, I'm begging you, don't close those eyes. Livvy, PLEASE!"

His voice got caught in a sick, wet choke. He bitterly scrunched his eyes shut, tears leaking out the edges. He took sharp, deep breaths through gritted teeth. A single sob escaped him, then another, the noise resounding in the night. Not knowing what else to do, he desperately reached for her hand and squeezed. He was shaking. Olivia used all her strength to feebly squeeze back.

Then she just couldn't hold on anymore.

**2:03 am:**

Everything was white. Olivia's beeping heart rate rang out in an echo that split her head wide open. Almost everything was numb, but what little she could feel hurt like crazy. What the hell happened? Her eyelids fluttered open and heard someone release a weighty sigh.

"Thank God you're awake, Livia."

Her head was foggy. It took her a while to place the voice. She looked over and found him sitting next to her, holding her hand.

"Peter…?"

When he laughed, it was dark and heavy. "Glad you didn't forget about me, sweetheart. The doctor's only been letting one person at a time sit with you while you were sleeping. I guess I just got lucky," he said. His sweet smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Olivia, you were in a car accident. Do you remember?"

She tried to speak, but her throat was tight and dry. "Water…" she managed to say. He got her a glass and helped her sit up to drink, cringing as she whimpered at the pain, which seemed to wake her a little. Everything started to come back to her. She swallowed, trying to bite back her fears as she raised her tired eyes to meet his.

"My friends…"

"Charlie and Astrid are fine. Just cuts and bruises. They're waiting down the hall with everyone else – Amy, Brandon, Kent, even a couple of your teachers. They're going to be so happy you're awake, Livia."

She may have been disoriented, but she knew he'd left someone out. A million worst-case scenarios blasted through her brain at full velocity. "John?" she whispered.

He rubbed his eyes. He knew she was going to ask, but it still broke his heart when she actually did. He couldn't stand her looking at him like that. "Peter?" she pressed, her voice gaining some edge. "How bad is it? Tell me," she begged. "Please."

He sighed. "He's in surgery. He's going to live, but it's not good. That bastard drunk driver hit his side of the car head-on. Astrid and Charlie told me he lost a lot of blood before the ambulance got there. The doctors say he's got internal bleeding too. They haven't been telling us much, but everyone's waiting down the hall for any news."

Still disoriented, Olivia held her face in her hands, trying to gain control of the emotions raging inside her. Every part of her felt like it was just on the verge of collapse. She started detaching herself from all the wires on her, even pulling out her drip needle, causing her to bleed. Peter grabbed her hands. "Olivia, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I have to get out of here. I should be there, with everyone. If he dies - "

"Olivia, he is not dying. OK? He's badly hurt, and he's going to need you when he wakes up, but he's going to make it through this. I know how much you care about this guy, but I need you to be strong for yourself, too. That means you're not leaving this room until a doctor says you can. But I swear to God, Olivia, if you try to get up and leave again, I will drag you back to this bed myself, you hear me?"

She bit her lip and nodded. The pain and disorientation was great enough for her to realise she wouldn't make it very far. She glanced at him warmly. "I'm glad you weren't there," she said. "I mean, I wish you were at the wedding, it was great; but if something had happened to you - "

"Hey," he said, tugging on her hand slightly to make her look at him. "Don't torture yourself with hypotheticals. I'm right here, Olivia," he murmured, the gentleness in his voice soothing her back to a calm. "I'm right here."

Later, the doctor explained to them that she was going to keep Olivia overnight. Apparently she had hit her head against the window when the car as it flipped, but she was lucky to obtain only a bad concussion as opposed to larger brain injuries. She also gained some particularly bad bruising on her collarbone from the seatbelt and lost a lot of blood from her glass wounds. However, she would be completely back to normal in a few weeks.

But this did little to relieve Olivia. The doctor couldn't answer any of her questions about John, but she was very kind in allowing Olivia to spend some time with her friends down the hall.

**7:09 am:**

The waiting room was close to dead silent. Occasionally one of them would leave to take a phone call from their family, but other than that, no one spoke. A few students were asleep. Broyles maintained a rigid expression of fortitude and solemn support. He'd been in enough rooms like this after agents had been injured on the job to know how hard it was. Astrid wept on Amy's shoulder, stains of John's blood still coating the edges of her sleeves from where she'd tried to stop the bleeding. Charlie was catatonic, staring straight ahead at nothing through eyes that were bloodshot and dark around the edges.

Olivia spent hours curled in her seat, gripping the arms of the chair until her hands were white. When that stopped working, she bit down on her knuckles so she wouldn't cry. It wasn't until Peter pulled her hand away that she realised she had drawn blood. He took out a tissue and cleaned her skin, but when he was done, he didn't let go of her hand.

She blinked and looked straight ahead. "I'm fine," she said. He could feel her hand trembling in his as if she was going to explode. He looked up to find that she was weeping bitterly, still refusing to look at him. The fact that she had been crying so silently made him ache. Not finding the right words to say, he just maintained his grip on her hand and leaned back in his chair beside her. He knew she wasn't fine, but he wasn't going to argue with her. Not tonight.

**3:42 pm:**

Olivia was back in her room sleeping again. Broyles had ordered her to go to bed after she'd fainted in the waiting room. Somehow she had managed to sleep all day, although she had been dreaming of the worst things possible. Peter shook her gently to wake her up. "Rise and shine, sweetheart," he said with a lightly teasing tone.

She groaned at the sunlight now in the room. "Waddya want?" she mumbled.

"Broyles has more news." Seeing her tense, he added, "It's good news, I promise. Come on." He wrapped her arm around him for support as he led her down the corridor.

"I just spoke to the doctor," Broyles told the small crowd of students that had gathered around him. "John's doing very well in Recovery. The tests that have been conducted show that his surgery was a success. He will be unconscious for quite a while longer, but they expect to move him out of Recovery either tonight or early tomorrow morning. He's going to be fine." The group exclaimed in their good fortune. Some sent up a prayer of thanks. Others hugged each other. Olivia wanted to rejoice with everyone, but she only found enough energy to breathe a huge sigh of relief into Peter's chest. It had been a long night.

**11:58 pm:**

John was awake. They were told a few hours ago, but nobody was allowed to see him until tomorrow except for Broyles, who sent the others home. He had been moved out of Recovery into a room just down from where Olivia was sleeping, as her doctor had forced her to stay yet another night. As she lay in her bed, she kept slipping in and out of consciousness, alternating between the nightmares of her dreamscape and her reality. She hated hospitals, and knowing John was just a few doors down made her desperately restless.

Screw it, she thought. She carefully hooked herself up to her mobile drip, and crept her way down the dark halls of the ward to John's room. He was lying in bed, bruises marring his body. His face was mostly normal however, save for a few cuts. His bright blue eyes peered at her in the darkness. "Hey," he said.

She stood stunned at the door. "You're awake?"

"I haven't been able to sleep for more than half an hour. Still getting used to the drugs, I guess."

"Nightmares?"

He nodded.

"Me too," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come by. I just had to know that you were OK."

"Well, if I could get up I would have beaten you to it," he said, attempting a smile, but it didn't last long. "How bad were you hurt?"

"I hit my head and lost a lot of blood, but I'm feeling much better."

"Good."

He adjusted his pillows so that he was half sitting up to face her. She sat on the edge of his bed, tentatively running her fingers over his arm gently, as if for no other reason than to prove to herself that he was real. "I'm so glad you're OK," she whispered.

"Me too."

"For a whole day I thought you were going to die. I was so scared."

"I know. I know."

Her lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. "No, John," she whimpered. "No, you don't." Something huge fractured in her chest. She turned her face away from him as she tried to bite back the sobs that took over her body. During this whole nightmare, she had never _really_ let herself cry. But seeing John, after she'd thought she would never see him again, she couldn't stop herself from falling to pieces.

He pulled her close and they clung to each other, both their bodies trembling with the same anxious rhythm. His hand cradled the back of her head, and he felt a slight wetness on his shoulder, where her face was buried. When she stopped, John pulled away and let out a guilty, weighted sigh.

"What is it?" she said.

"I'm going back to Baltimore," he whispered. He looked down. Or away. Anywhere but at her.

"What?"

"Broyles told me earlier. It's going to be some time before I completely heal – I can't finish the course. They say I can defer till next year, but for now they're honourably discharging me."

"Just like that?"

He nodded. "I'll come back to Quantico when I'm better. I mean, I've worked hard enough. I really want the job. I guess by the time I'm ready to resume the course you guys will already be in secondary training or your internships. You may not even be studying there when I get back."

She paused and bit her lip, her eyes starting to fill with tears again. "When will you go?"

"As soon as I'm able to travel. A week - a little more. I love it here, I love all of you – but I can't stay. They won't let me."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "John, I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For you being hurt, deferring your course – everything. If I hadn't asked you to come to the wedding…"

"Liv, none of us could have stopped this. Sometimes in life everything is going perfectly – you're at your dream school with these great friends and this amazing girl – and then a drunk driver blindsides you and almost takes it all away. You can't plan that shit, Liv. Can't prepare for it. It's just life."

"But you didn't deserve it. Not you. It's not fair."

"Honestly, Liv, I'm just glad I woke up today - that we're here right now. You and me," he said. "Besides, it's not like my whole career is destroyed, I'll just take a few months longer to get there. Who knows, maybe I'll decide it's not what I want anymore and join the Marines again. I don't know. Whatever happens, I'll stay in touch with all of you, and I'll try to come back for your graduation. But Liv…as far as dragging out the possibility of there being an "us" goes? I don't think that'd be fair to you. Not when we'll be states apart until next year at least. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

She wistfully gave a hint of a smile, knowing he was right, but was filled with a rush of regrets. "I should have kissed you that night. At the Whitehorse."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. But we got interrupted, and after that, when I had time to overanalyse it, I got scared. I wish I hadn't. I should have given you the chance. God knows, at the very least I owed you that. And when they said you were in surgery and it was bad, all I could think was 'What if he dies? What if he dies and he never knows that I liked him back?'"

He looked stunned. "I thought you weren't sure yet."

She shook her head. "I think a part of me knew how I felt for you, and the other part was scared to admit it. But after the crash I realised exactly how much you meant to me. It's like how they say you don't know what you have till you lose it. I wasted our chance, John. I'm sorry that I doubted you. I should've trusted you."

"No, it wasn't your fault. I always meant to make a real go of it – you know, actually ask you out and everything. I guess I just ran out of time." He straightened so that he was fully sitting up in front of her.

"There is one other thing," he said. His finger came up under her chin and tilted her face towards his. She didn't resist it. When their lips touched, it felt like someone had struck a match, starting a slow burn fueled only by hesitance, tenderness, and a desperate will to stop the pain. Olivia gasped into the kiss. He felt so warm, so alive, so real. She allowed his tongue to taste her. Salt. Of course. She'd been crying. They were both weak and in pain, but they poured their every last ounce of adrenaline and energy into each other as they traded breaths. It was a last-chance kiss - part exorcism and part awakening - between two wounded people separated by circumstance before they got the chance to see what they could have become.

They pulled apart to breathe. "Stay," he pleaded in a husky whisper. She didn't have the heart to tell him no. He lay down, wincing at the pain, and she lay at his side. Careful not to cause him any extra agony, she let her fingertips gently trace along his upper chest, his arms, his face - taking everything in. She peppered his skin with light kisses, marking a trail along his wounds. He laid her to rest against an un-bruised spot on his chest so she could sleep, smoothing out her blonde hair in his hands, not wanting to let her go.

"Liv," John murmured in the darkness, not sure if she was still awake. "I know we can't ever be together. Not really. Maybe, just for tonight, we won't know the difference."

**8:24 am: **

They didn't kiss again. When John woke the next morning, he found Olivia sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. She was already dressed in casual clothes, ready to be discharged. She must have sneaked out. "Last night was wonderful," she said softly. "But it can't happen again."

"Liv…"

"No. I know you don't go till next week. But we have to stop."

He nodded. "Before it gets harder."

She nodded back.

"OK," he said, resigned to their fate.

"OK." She stood up and began to walk away. She stopped at the door. "I'll come back," she assured him. "Before you leave." They looked at each other. She hesitated - just for a second. And then she was gone.

**PLEASE REVIEW!**** Your feedback is always wonderful : )**

**The ****kiss was based on the final scene of The Transformation - such a bittersweet end to John's journey of redemption in the show. **

**For those of you who are finding it hard to imagine a young Charlie Francis ****losing it, check out some of Kirk Acevedo's early work on Oz (awesome show!): http:/ www. youtube. com /watch? v= 61kI32fOZhE **


	17. OliviaAt the AcademyWith the Revolver

**Sorry for the wait on this one! I'm in the middle of uni exams right now : (**

**References: Holly's Diner (The Cure), Krista the waitress (Northwest Passage), Agent Kashner (Dream Logic), The Artist (Inner Child), Peter's Rachael speech (What Lies Below)**

**The Kashner reference is for Fantasy Cat. **

Olivia ran until her lungs started to shred and her heart pumped acid. Then she ran some more. She forced her body through the woods, fighting through the physical and emotional pain from her accident. John was gone. When he left two days ago, she played it off like they'd be seeing each other again any day now. She'd always been really uncomfortable with goodbyes. But he wasn't coming back – she knew that. So she'd taken to running, pushing her broken body to its limits, anything to get her mind off everything she blamed herself for.

Olivia's medical leave had been horrible and boring, but thankfully Peter had been spending time with her whenever he wasn't working. He quickly discovered he couldn't convince her to rest, so this morning he'd offered to meet her for breakfast on her run as a compromise. She'd resisted at first, but as usual he had used his friendly charm to persuade her, saying he was going to be out fishing anyway. She reached the lake where Peter asked to meet her, making her way to the water's edge. The surface was completely still, and birds were just waking up as the sun started to filter through the trees. "Not bad, is it?" She started a little, but turned around to see Peter smiling at her. "Spooked you, did I?"

"Not at all."

"Liar."

She sighed. "OK, you got me out here. What do you want?"

He gestured to where he had two little fold-out chairs set up. "It ain't much, but this is how I like my breakfasts on the mornings I don't have to sort out deliveries. Come on," he coaxed. "There's hot coffee waiting for you. Well, I lie. By now it's probably lukewarm. But it's still coffee, I promise."

She brushed some sweaty hair out of her face and smiled weakly in submission. Coffee sounded good. She needed it, today of all days. She looked at his fishing equipment, which lay discarded on the ground. "How long have you been out here?"

He shrugged. "Since 6, maybe."

Out of nowhere she inhaled sharply, clenching her eyes shut as she swallowed back a groan.

"Livia? You OK?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "Just a headache."

"Again? How bad?"

She chuckled wryly through the pain. "I've had worse."

"Olivia," he pressed.

"I'm OK. I don't think I'll throw up again." She sent him a grateful look. A couple of days ago she'd been hit by a migraine at the Whitehorse, and he'd stayed with her in the bathroom the whole time while she was sick. He had done everything he could to help her, from keeping her hair back and holding her hand to making her tea afterwards. He even made her see her doctor again, but apparently it was a normal part of her recovery and she'd just have to wait it out.

"Livia, you've been doing a lot lately considering you're on medical leave. How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Oh, I know you're 'fine'. You've said that word so many times it barely sounds like a word anymore. But it's your first day back at class today, right?"

She nodded, her eyes narrowed at him. "I want to go back, Peter."

"Of course you do, but that doesn't mean it'll be easy. Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, you can stop being so damn nice," she said. She quickly closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help. It's just that ever since the crash people have been walking on eggshells around me, asking me if I'm OK every ten minutes. I just want to get on with my life."

He nodded in understanding, looking out at the lake. "Normally I get to cook myself a nice trout for breakfast right about now, but seeing as I didn't catch anything…" He downed the rest of his coffee and stood up. "Come on, Livia, let's go. Breakfast at Holly's?"

"No, I really should keep running. I have class in an hour and a half."

"Plenty of time, then." He stood before her in her seat, his hand outstretched to pull her up. She looked uncertain. "Livia, I'll have you back in time. Besides, you shouldn't be out here pushing yourself this hard. Cut yourself some slack for once and come to breakfast."

She knew he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Sighing, she took his hand, helping him pack up before they headed towards his car. As he got in, he saw her hesitate at the door, so briefly that he almost missed it. "Olivia?"

She looked over to him, her eyes bearing a flicker of anxiety. Her body looked tense, and he watched as she attempted to shake it off. She gulped and forced the door open, recoiling at the slight screech of the metal. "Olivia," he said again, stopping her movements. He suddenly realised - she hadn't been inside a car since last week. He silently cursed himself for his stupidity, but focused back on her. "Olivia, I'm sorry I didn't realise. I'll walk you back home if you -"

"Don't," she replied, an edge to her voice. "I'll have to do it sooner or later." She got into the car, with him sitting in the driver's seat beside her. He looked on, concerned, as the suffocating feeling of the seatbelt across her still-fading bruises made her shiver. "Tell me if you want me to stop, OK? Please?" He saw her nod as she looked out the window. He sighed, knowing she wouldn't, but started the car anyway. Along the way, he noticed the unshed tears in her eyes and the way her knuckles turned white as her hands gripped the seat. He cursed himself again – he hated to see her so uneasy, but it was worse knowing that he was making her feel that way.

The car finally slowed to a stop outside Holly's Diner. Peter was surprised to see how together Olivia was as she got out. He'd expected her to be in pieces by now, but she wasn't. He felt slightly ashamed of himself. She was a lot stronger than he usually gave her credit for. But a part of him was proud of her. Riding in that car couldn't have been easy, but she'd toughed it out. He gave her a warm smile, which she returned, and opened the door of the diner for her, guiding her in with the slight pressure of his hand on the small of her back.

Despite the morning's rocky start, breakfast was a lot of fun. She and Peter shared this massive tower of strawberry pancakes, so between the sugar rush and his funny stories from his days at MIT, she almost forgot she had any reason to be sad. Their waitress came and poured them some more coffee, flirting effortlessly with Peter but pretending like Olivia wasn't even there.

"Thanks, Krista," he said as she walked away. Olivia just looked at him, caught between feeling annoyed and laughing out loud. "What?" he asked.

"She likes you."

"You reckon?"

"It's kind of obvious. You know, for a guy of your intelligence you can kind of be slow on the uptake of these things."

He smiled and shook his head. "She's nice, but I would hope that I'd have a little more class than that."

"What's wrong with her? She seems respectable enough."

"That's not what I meant," he said honestly. "You're right, Krista's lovely, and we get on well. But I would never try and pick up the waitress when I'm here with you. It just wouldn't be right."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just stole a chunk of pancake from his side of the plate. He tossed a sugar packet at her in retaliation, sparking yet another of their many fork wars. After they settled, his tone got serious again. "How are the others going?"

"Fine, I guess. Charlie and Astrid have been back in class for a few days. Charlie's doing it tough with John gone. The three of us were always together. It's quiet, you know, without him here."

"Have you heard from him?"

She shook her head. Her eyes were downcast as she picked at pieces of food. "I've been getting a million calls from Mum, though, asking if I'm OK. Thank goodness Rachael doesn't know yet. She's still away with Greg so I asked Mum not to tell her."

"Why? I thought that was the point of having people who care about you in your life – to have someone to talk to when things go wrong."

"Peter, if she found out I got hurt driving back from her wedding she'd never forgive herself. The crash could have been a lot worse than it was, but all of us ended up OK. What's the point in scaring her?"

He stared, awestruck. "That's just like you. Even now you're protecting her."

"She's my little sister," Olivia said, as if that were reason enough. He nodded, astounded at how she always put others before herself. For most of his life he had lived as a nomad, completely on his own with no one to serve or protect. He felt he had a lot to learn from someone so selfless.

Eventually he took Olivia to the Academy for her first day back at class. She received a warm welcome from most of the students, but she could occasionally feel them talking concernedly behind her back. Feeling self-conscious, she was glad that her shirt covered most of her injuries, but the grazes to her face and the dark bruise along her hairline from where she hit her head were still attracting much attention. Charlie had been great in making her feel at home, cracking jokes with her just like always - but he stared daggers at anyone who looked at her wounds for too long.

But Charlie couldn't always protect her. When she left him to go to her Forensic Psych class, she overheard a few guys whispering a couple of rows behind her. She tried to focus on Jacobsen's lecture, but she still caught grabs of what they were saying.

"Dude, she looks like she went through a blender…"

"…her face is all messed up…"

"…you see the big one? On her collarbone?"

"They should have sent her home, too. Look at her, man, she's fucked up…"

"Shit, if she's like this, that idiot driver Scott must be fucking pulverised -"

That was it. Olivia turned around. "You don't know shit about John Scott. We were hit by a drunk driver, it wasn't his fault. And if you want to discuss the details of how the car crash that nearly killed him fucked me up, at least have the guts to say it to my face," she spat.

One of the guys leered at her. "Listen, princess. You missed week and a half of class and your body's a fucking train wreck. I don't know why you even bothered coming back. Why don't you just go home and give your spot to someone who actually deserves it?"

"Mr Kashner!" Jacobsen roared.

Olivia turned around to see Jacobsen fuming. She was shocked – she'd never seen this gentle man, her favourite teacher, so heated.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you have a problem with one of our students being in this class, Mr Kashner?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Really? Because you don't mind telling Miss Dunham that she doesn't deserve to be here."

"No, sir, that's not what I meant -"

"Which serial killer have we just been discussing?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you'd been paying attention instead of gossiping with your friends I wouldn't have to ask twice. Ms Dunham?"

Olivia squirmed as the whole room's attention was suddenly thrown onto her. But she knew the answer. "The Artist, sir."

"What was the name of The Artist's latest victim, Mr Kashner?"

"Uhhh…"

"Today, Mr Kashner."

"I don't know, sir."

"Can you tell me the names of _any_ of his victims?" Jacobsen looked on as Kashner choked, sweating under the watchful eyes of his entire class. Jacobsen turned his attention back to Olivia. "Miss Dunham, the last victim?"

"Samantha Gilmore."

"Correct. Now, Mr Kashner, regardless of your opinion of Miss Dunham, whether or not a student belongs here is up to my discretion, not yours. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Then I'm sure you'll have no objections to me asking you to leave for the day."

"Sir?"

"If you're going to disrupt my lectures and unfoundedly insult another student, then there's the door. As you said, there are plenty of others dying to take your place. This is my classroom, not yours, and I demand your complete respect and attention here - but if you can't handle that, you find a student who can and you send them to me."

The room was dead quiet. Kashner roughly gathered his books and glared at Olivia as he left. When he was gone, Jacobsen took a breath and continued as if nothing had happened. When his lecture was over, he asked her to stay for a few minutes.

"I apologise if I embarrassed you, Olivia," he said earnestly. "How are you?"

"Fine."

He smiled knowingly. The good old "fine" response. This girl was tough as nails.

"You did well today." He handed her a pile of papers. "Here are the notes from the lectures you missed. You don't have to do the assignment, so that should relieve some of the pressure. A read of the notes will catch you up just fine. If there's anything else you need, you know where to find me."

Fortunately most of her teachers gave her the same understanding – that is, all except one. She had Sanford Harris twice today. In his Law class, he gave her notes but expected her to catch up on all the homework she missed by Friday. He was also teaching their Physical Training class because Loeb was in D.C. helping with a case. Today's PT was weapons training at the indoor firing range. Each student was in their own little cubicle, wearing earmuffs to block out the noise of others' gunfire. Harris was going between them, instructing each student on their shooting. Olivia dreaded having to speak to him, but she steeled herself, focusing her negativity into each shot she pounded out.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and tried not to flinch. She turned down the noise cancellation on her earmuffs so she could hear what Harris was saying. "Drop your shoulder a little, Dunham. Try again."

Wanting to get this over with, she did as he asked, emptying another clip of bullets into her target. Her shots were good, but as usual he wasn't impressed. "Broyles took you off my extra credit duty," he said. "I guess you'll just have to earn my favour some other way." He ran his hand along her forearm, adjusting its angle. His touch on her bare skin was sickening. "Hold that steady. Now try again."

She fired another few bullets. He shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that, Dunham." He stood behind her. His body was against hers, her whole frame trapped by his arms on either side. She could feel his breath on her neck as he corrected her position. This was far beyond professional.

She squirmed and tried to shake him off. "Don't stand so close."

He ignored her, moving closer still, one hand tightening its grip on her arm as the other came up to tuck some hair behind her ear. "What a shame to scar such a pretty face," he murmured.

She slammed her gun down on the table in front of her and twisted out of his grip. "That's enough," she spat. "I'm telling Broyles about you."

He laughed, blocking her exit. "Telling him what, exactly?"

"About the harassment."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dunham. I suggest you get back to work before I give you a bad report for this lesson."

"I'm not kidding," she said, moving to push past him. He grabbed her arm. Hard.

"Try it," he hissed in her ear. "See what you can prove. Go to Broyles' office right now if you want, but I promise that you and that roommate of yours will be kicked out of this program before you get there."

She glared at him. "Leave Charlie out of this."

"All I have to do is suggest that you've been fucking your roommate and it's over. For both of you. You know, he has so much potential, that kid. I can see him having a real career in Counter Terrorism or the DEA. It'd be a damn shame if anything got in his way."

A bolt of fear bent through her stomach. She knew it was possible. Sleeping with other recruits warranted immediate expulsion. "It's not true," she said.

He scoffed. "What's true, honey, is irrelevant. That's the kind of authority that I have here. Besides, I'm not hurting anyone, Dunham. It's all fun and games. So why don't you just be a good girl and play along. If you make this a bigger deal than it is, you'll only be hurting yourself." He let her go. Her arm was throbbing. She backed away from him and reached instinctively for the gun, not taking her piercing eyes off him for a second.

As he stood at the door of the cubicle, he seemed to switch back into professional mode – the public side of him that everyone could see. "It's a real pleasure having you back, Dunham," he said with false courtesy. It felt like an unspoken threat. When he finally moved on to the next cubicle, she slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it. Her head was pounding with stress, and on top of her headaches it was agony. She felt tears sprang to her eyes, but she clenched her fists. No. She wasn't going to let that son of a bitch make her break down.

Her brain churned with potential scenarios of what would happen to her and Charlie if she spoke up, or how long she could put up with it or avoid him if she kept quiet. She'd already tried switching classes, but his was the only law class her timetable fit with. She just had to make it through the next couple of months – then she'd be on to secondary training or her internship and he wouldn't be teaching her anymore. And Charlie…he loved this place. She couldn't risk him losing it all because of her, could she?

She didn't know what to do. She just knew that she was scared, and it was the last thing she wanted to feel. She hardened herself, raising her gun again. If she was going to survive this place, she had to start turning her fear into anger. Her jaw tensed as she imagined Harris standing in the place of her target, and over and over she vented the pain of this increasingly disastrous day with each round she unleashed, boring a hole right between his eyes as bitter tears seeped out of her own.

**Please Review!**


	18. Collide

**References: Akim (the No-Brainer), ending (Jacksonville), Peter's Elizabeth speech (the Man from the Other Side)**

By the next week, things had started to settle down for Olivia. Most of her bruises were near invisible and she had caught up with all her school work. But today was not a good day. She sat fidgeting on her bed, waiting for Charlie to finish getting changed in the bathroom so they could go out. Sighing, she went to check the mailbox on the door of their room. It was empty. Again. She slammed the palm of her hand into the wall in frustration and then used it to brush her hair back, biting her lip.

Charlie emerged from the bathroom, picking up a soccer ball from beside his bed. "No mail?"

"Nah," she said absentmindedly.

"You expecting a letter from the President or something? You checked that thing fifty times this morning."

"I'm just waiting to hear from Broyles about whether or not I can switch law classes." This was a half-truth. She was waiting for a response from Broyles, but that's not what had her checking the mailbox every three minutes. Not today.

"I thought you already tried that."

"Well, I'm trying again," she said, trying to close the subject, but Charlie wasn't having it.

"Livvy, is there something going on between you and Harris? Apart from him marking you unfairly, I mean?"

"Charlie, if I wanted to talk about it, why didn't I bring it up?"

"Don't bite my head off, Olivia. You know I'm just trying to help."

She softened, struck by his concern. "I'm sorry, Charlie. But I promise, I've told you everything." Lying to him left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Well is something else bothering you? You seem a little distracted."

"Just missing John, I guess." Another half-truth.

"Yeah, me too. I've got no one to test out my insults on anymore," he joked, but she knew that deep down he'd been finding John's departure harder than he let on. "Let's go, then. Soccer should cheer us up."

They met the others at the top of Little Hill where the ground was flat. Olivia was on a team with Charlie and Astrid, while Amy, Brandon and Kent were their opposition. They set up two sets of branches to mark the goals and began to play. Charlie felt mischievous, though, so half way through he decided to change the game to "No Rules Soccer", picking the ball up at Kent's feet and bolting to the other side of their makeshift field, slamming it into the grass.

"TOUCHDOWN, BABY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO – ARGH!"

Kent tackled him and they rolled down the hill, punching and shoving each other all the way. Olivia and Amy just laughed, stealing back the ball for a game of one-on-one as Astrid and Brandon looked on. The two girls started getting jokingly competitive and rough with each other as they played. Also, it was an unusually hot day so they were both just wearing tank tops and shorts. The combination of these things made Brandon's jaw drop. Astrid rolled her eyes and tipped his chin up to close his mouth. "I can tell what you're thinking, you sleazy man."

"Can you blame him?" Kent asked as he clambered up the hill to them, watching the girls scuffling aggressively for possession of the ball. "Add a couple of tubs of jelly and we're there," he joked just to tease Astrid.

"Ugh, boys!" she exclaimed, stomping off to play with the girls.

"I'm going to hell, aren't I?" Kent asked.

Brandon grinned. "I'll save you a seat."

Charlie finally scrambled back up the hill and they rejoined the game. Olivia and Charlie proceeded to score a few more goals by getting Astrid to sneakily move the goalposts when the others weren't looking. Finally Olivia scored the winning point, and an ecstatic Charlie scooped her up onto his back and ran around screaming "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" said Kent, annoyed that they'd moved the goalposts.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart's breaking," said Charlie, spinning Olivia around. "Quit whining, it's _No Rules_ Soccer!"

"Charlie, let me down!" yelled Olivia, laughing dizzily as he set her back on land. They all played soccer and Ultimate Frisbee for a while longer, stopping occasionally to just lie back on the grass and talk. Olivia had fun, but her mind would always wander back to what was worrying her.

She left the others to return to her flat, where she urgently opened the lid of the mailbox. There they were. Just lying there. She cursed under her breath and tore everything out of the mailbox, climbing through the window onto The Ledge to sit in the sun. There were a few parcels which were small presents from her Mum, sister and friends. She always asked them not to send things, but they would insist. She wore a weak smile as she unwrapped the gifts, but it didn't reach her eyes. The messages they wrote, reminding her that they loved her, made her ache with a sense of longing as intense as pain.

And then there was only one card left. The one she had been dreading all day. Daisies on the cover. It was blank. Just a printed message. "Always in my heart."

She scrunched it tightly in her fist. Fucking prick. Part of her wished she'd killed him when she had the chance - but another part, the innermost part, knew that if she had she would have become just as bad as him, and that was something she couldn't live with.

The door creaked open inside the flat. "Livvy? You here?" The familiarity of Charlie's gruff voice was somehow always soothing to her, but she didn't reply. She quickly wiped her eyes, even though she knew he didn't miss a thing.

He stuck his head out the window. "Livvy? What's wrong?" She looked down at her feet hanging off the edge of the concrete.

"Go back to the others, Charlie."

"I will. Just as soon as I know you're OK." He crept out onto The Ledge slowly.

"Charlie, I'm fine."

He noticed the cards and small gifts scattered around her. "It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me? We would have done something for you."

"I don't like celebrating it. But seriously, you don't have to be here."

"Livvy, you're upset – and you're not the kind of girl who cries over nothing, so it's obviously worth my time. What do you need? If there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it. You know that, Liv."

She nodded, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. They sat quietly for a long time. Just having him there made things that little bit easier, but still the thoughts in her mind began to overwhelm her. Knowing she could trust Charlie, she told him about how every year her abusive stepfather sent her a taunting card. Now she couldn't have a birthday without those memories coming back to haunt her. Charlie just sat and perfectly listened to everything she had to say, not pressuring her for more or asking a million questions. After a while, she said she needed some space, but promised Charlie that she wouldn't stay out too late. She knew how much he worried.

When she left, he cleaned up the flat, did all the dishes, and cooked so she wouldn't have to make dinner whenever she got home. He felt he had to do something nice for her today, but it didn't seem like enough. He needed to break her association between her birthday and bad memories – she deserved to make some good ones. He pulled out his phone and texted Peter: _Call me after work if u can. We need to talk bout something. Don't tell Liv. C_

Meanwhile, Olivia ended up walking through the woods for a while to gather her thoughts. Although she had started out with no particular direction in mind, she somehow ended up in Quantico at the Whitehorse. Peter approached her as she walked in. "What's wrong?" he said immediately. He'd gotten better at reading her since they met.

"Just a bad day, I guess. Thought I'd come by for a Russian or two."

Peter looked incredulous. "No, you need more than a drink tonight, sweetheart." She ignored the nickname – normally she'd scold him for it but today she just didn't care. He turned to his 2nd in command at the bar. "Hey, Akim, I need you to take over for the avo. I'll be back for the night shift."

"What?" Akim responded. "I better get double time for this, man."

"Better," Peter said, rolling an unusual gold coin over his fingers.

"I can have it back?" Akim asked eagerly. "You can sell that for a fortune."

"She's worth it," Peter said casually, tossing it to him. "Besides, I'll probably win it back off you in a poker game, anyway." He packed a bag behind the bar, and led Olivia out of the bar.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Just this place I go to think."

Walking in comfortable silence, they finally reached a field where they had to walk by some train tracks. Something about it reminded her of Jacksonville – a foggy memory of her father running down and scooping her up, telling her it wasn't safe to play by the tracks. She must have only been about five. Feeling sadly nostalgic, she walked along the rail of the tracks so that she and Peter were at an equal height. She lost her footing a little, and he reached out to balance her, but once she was back up, he reluctantly let her go, thinking it was best to keep his distance.

Feeling an approaching train rumble the earth beneath their feet, he led her off the tracks and up a large rocky hill that stood tall in the middle of the field. The view from the top was unbelievable. The sun had just set, and orange streaked through looming clouds that hung low over the forest. He walked her over to the edge of a sort of small cliff, pulling out a small picnic blanket, a bottle of whiskey and a box of old shot glasses from his bag, and then poured them both a drink.

"Why so many glasses?" she asked.

"These are all the old ones from the bar we have to throw out - mostly coz of tiny cracks or something, so be careful. We could just get rid of them but it's far better to use them for a little release on a bad day." He sculled his shot, hurling the glass off the edge of the cliff.

She looked at him quizzically. "Try it," he said. "It feels good, trust me."

She downed her shot and lobbed the glass as far as she could. It seemed to fall through the sky in slow motion before she heard a satisfying smash somewhere far down. She laughed. It felt ridiculous, but it felt good too. They did this a few more times before he gently tugged on her arm to pull her back to him, his eyes filled with genuine concern. She knew what was coming next, but she also knew she couldn't avoid it. He pulled them down to sit shoulder to shoulder on the blanket. He sighed a little as they watched the sky's twilight hues burn down to dusk. "What happened today, Livia?"

She attempted a wistful smile. "Nothing. I'm just having one of those days."

He looked at her with gentle scepticism. "Any time you're willing to come up with a better answer, I'm sitting right here."

She got quiet again. Looked away. Did that thing with her lip that she always did when she was upset. He watched the distant clouds creep closer, waiting for her to say something.

"I miss my Dad," she finally whispered. It was true – even though she didn't remember much about him specifically, he'd always existed as an ideal in her head of how perfect her life was before her Mum married that psycho. She was wearing his dogtags today, and started running her fingers over the engraving of his name.

"He died?"

"When I was a kid. Persian Gulf War."

"I'm sorry. And he's on your mind today?"

She nodded. Peter's thumb lightly brushed the back of her hand. "I lost my Mum a few years back," he said, looking out over the field. "I know how hard it is."

His confession shocked her a little bit. She never knew that. "What was she like?"

"She was really beautiful. Born in Greece, raised in England. She used to read me the Iliad in Greek, even though I barely understood it. My father was hospitalised when I was young, so she pretty much raised be alone. I didn't exactly make it easy for her. I'm a lot more grown up now – a lot less angry - but back then I was a rough kid. I left when I was 19, travelled working odd jobs, and just didn't stop moving. About a month after I got to Europe, I got a call from the hospital... from Walter. He told me that she died in a car crash. It wasn't a car crash. My mother committed suicide. It's the only time I've spoken to him in all the years that he's been locked up in Saint Claire's. He must have known the truth. I think, in his way, he was trying to protect me."

She held his hand a little tighter. "It wasn't your fault, Peter."

"I know. My mother was wonderful, but she wasn't strong. Even when I was little, something about me made her sad, but I never understood why. I remember she used to cry at night when she thought I was sleeping. Part of me still wonders what would have happened if I'd stayed with her and, you know…tried harder." This struck Olivia – she'd never heard him talk about his the dark pieces of his past. The fact that he was revealing such a vulnerable part of himself for her sake was really kind in a bittersweet sort of way.

And so she told him about her stepfather's card. She told him everything - more than she told Charlie. It was the first time she'd ever said the whole story out loud from start to finish. It sounded awfully stereotypical when she put it into words. Army wife Mum loses husband, starts up with some guy who drinks too much. He smacks her around a little, but she marries him, because…well, Olivia didn't know why. And then this drunk, he moves into your house, sleeps in your father's bed. And you might be able to live with that if he didn't hit Mum all the time. But she loves him. She defends him - even on the rare occasions that he comes after you late at night. If that doesn't make a kid shoot somebody, nothing does.

When she was done retelling the most traumatic experience of her childhood, she could barely look at him. But instead of being repulsed by her, he said the last thing she expected.

"I'm really proud of you."

She glared at him. "Bullshit. How could you be, after what I just told you?"

"I can understand why you did what you did, but it's in the past, Livia. I'm proud of you because you've grown up to be nothing like him," he said sincerely.

That shook her to her bones. God only knows how much she'd worked to be different than the man who hurt her, to be better than her suffering. Having it acknowledged by someone spoke volumes. "Thank you. For telling me that."

He looked up to find tears in her eyes. It made him ache. "It's true," he murmured. "You're not like him at all." _You're beautiful_, he wanted to say, but he couldn't tell her that. As far as he knew, they were just very close friends. He decided to push the boundary anyway and pulled her close, tentatively planting a quick kiss into her hair – so softly that he doubted she even felt it. He noticed her trembling in his hands as she hugged him tightly. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked up, trying not to cry. "I don't know how he keeps finding me. I just want him to stop. What if he tries to hurt me again? Why can't he just leave me alone?"

He smoothed some hair out of her eyes. There was a vulnerability in them he didn't often see. She looked simultaneously jaded and utterly innocent. His hand lingered on her cheek.

"Peter, I'm scared."

"Don't be."

She should have seen it coming. It had been obvious for a while that he liked her, but it was still a small shock when he leaned in, crossing the great divide between them. When he got close enough for their whiskey-tinged breaths to meld, he felt her shiver slightly under his hand. He gave her a chance to stop, but she didn't. He was stunned to find that after she initially shied away, she started leaning in too, her eyes fluttering shut.

Suddenly lightning cracked over the field, and they snapped apart. Peter broke from his reverie, and, worried that he might be taking advantage, dropped his hand from her face. He glanced up. "Rain's coming. I better get you home." She blushed, nodding awkwardly. He gave her a reassuring smile as he packed up and led her back down the hill. He would have tried again, but he knew it wouldn't be right. They were both emotional, and slightly drunk. If he was ever going to kiss her, it shouldn't happen because she was upset or feeling desperate, but because she was absolutely certain that she wanted it.

As they walked back home along the train tracks, he once again held her hand to keep her balanced. But this time he didn't let go, and neither did she. And for Peter, that was enough for now.

**Please review! Your feedback helps me so much. Love you all : ) **

**ps. This may be the last chapter you guys get for a week or so...I have exams right now and this is far too tempting and distracting for me to study! But I'll see how I go.**


	19. The Rooftop

**Songs are Complicated by Avril Lavigne and The Ghost in You by Counting Crows (another one that really reminds me of Olivia). Just trying to bring back a few of those 2002 tunes we all love/hate ; )**

"Charlie, what is going on? You tell me right now!" Olivia yelled.

Charlie just laughed as he sat in the car next to her. "No way. It's far more fun to torture you."

"I feel like you're abducting me. Will you at least tell me where we're going?" She asked, looking down at her outfit. "I'm sure I'm overdressed."

"You look perfect. And no, I'm not telling you."

She turned to Kent, who was driving. "Kent, please tell me what's going on. I swear if you don't I'll start screaming 'Kidnap' out the window."

"Sorry, Olivia. I'd love to help, but I'm under strict orders to keep my mouth shut."

Olivia seethed. "I swear I could kill someone right now."

"What do you want me to do? Volunteer to be your victim? I'm sorry, you're just going to have to wait and see. But Charlie was right, you look very nice."

"Thanks," she mumbled, throwing another glare at Charlie. A few minutes later, Kent pulled up in front of a very familiar location.

"Really?" Olivia started laughing acerbically. "You got me all dressed up to go to the Whitehorse? The _Whitehorse_, Charlie? OK, I was confused before but now you've totally lost me. You better explain."

"Not a chance. Come on," he said, pulling her out of the car into the cool night air.

"Go on up," said Kent. "Astrid's coming in Amy's car in a minute. I'll go pick up Brandon and we'll be back in a little while."

"So am I seriously the only one in the dark here?" Olivia groaned.

Kent gave an amused, sheepish nod and drove off, leaving her with no choice but to follow Charlie through the crowded bar to the back storeroom. Charlie pulled out Peter's key, giving them access, and they then went through the storeroom out another door in the back which led to a set of fire escape stairs. As they climbed them, Olivia was unleashing her annoyance. "What the hell, Charlie? You force me to put on my only dress for something everyone knows about me, you refuse to tell me anything, and then you drag me out here to the fire escape of the bloody Whitehorse? You better start explaining yourself, Francis. I can't believe this. You are so infuriating sometimes, you know that? I hate it when you -"

Olivia gasped as he pulled the open door to the rooftop. The roof was laid out as a kind of open courtyard, with a few plants in the corners and vines growing along the short brick walls that formed its borders. Soft music was playing from a stereo, a barbeque was set up and lamps and fairy lights adorned the walls. In the centre was a long table, fully set with candles and everything. And then there was Peter, sitting on one of the walls, hands in his pockets. He was dressed suavely in suit pants and a button down shirt, grinning mischievously. "Let me guess," he said to her. "You can't believe you never knew this was up here, right?"

She was dumbstruck as Charlie pulled her further out onto the roof and Peter walked over to meet them. He turned to Charlie. "Was she yelling like that the whole way over?"

"All freakin' afternoon, man. You've got no idea."

Peter laughed, imagining it, and smiled appreciatively as he looked Olivia over. "Nice dress."

She blushed slightly and mumbled a shy "Thanks", but squirmed a little under his gaze, still unsure of what was going on.

He pulled a hand out of his pocket to gesture around the rooftop. "Sorry we couldn't tell you about this earlier. Charlie wanted it to be a surprise. But after what you told us both the other day, we thought we had to help you make some good memories for a change. So, welcome to your birthday dinner."

Her jaw dropped as she scanned the set-up again. She stirred a little, hesitant. The mention of her birthday brought up horrible thoughts, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. They'd gone through all this effort so she had something better to think about on her birthday. She looked between them both, no sure what to say. This was possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her. Trying not to give away how touched she was, she pretended she was still a little annoyed with them. "You two put together this diabolical plan without me noticing? I can't believe it."

Peter chuckled. "Well, I think "diabolical" is a little harsh, but yeah."

She softened then, and quietly asked; "You did all of this? For me?"

"Actually, it was Charlie's idea. I just provided the venue."

She turned to Charlie. "Is that true?"

He nodded, and she just couldn't hold back anymore. She blinked tears away, suddenly wrapping her arms around him tightly, whispering an emphatic "Thank you" in his ear. She heard the gentle but gravelly sound of his voice, "No worries, Liv. You deserve it."

She pulled away and gave Peter a quick hug as well, also thanking him. Peter got them some drinks and soon enough, the others started showing up, all excited and bearing gifts for Olivia. Peter cooked his specialty of traditional Greek lamb with Haloumi cheese on the barbeque, while the others also brought food and Astrid brought a huge Red Velvet cake she had made for dessert. It was all pretty overwhelming, but mostly Olivia was just grateful that these totally awesome co-conspirators were her friends.

The table was filled with laughter way into the early morning, as the regular pub-crawlers obliviously hung out downstairs. Occasionally Akim would come up to say hi, bring more drinks or take a couple of photos for them, but other than that they were in their own little bubble above the rest of the town. Eventually it was time to go. Kent and Brandon were way too smashed to drive. Poor Astrid had to wrangle with Kent to get his keys and hand them to Charlie. "Here, you can take Kent's car home."

"I'll take the guys and Astrid," Amy said.

"OK, then. Well, Charlie, are you OK to drive?" asked Olivia.

"Yeah, I didn't have much. I knew I'd have to drag your drunken ass home anyway," he teased.

"Hey! I've actually been really good tonight."

In a corner next to the stereo, Brandon and Kent were breaking into another one of their passionate, drunken renditions of pop songs. "TELL MEEEEEEEEEE! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE THINGS SO COMPLICATEEEEEEEED?" Kent belted out.

"I SEE THE WAY YOU'RE ACTING LIKE SOMEBODY ELSE, GETS ME FRUSTRATEEEEEEEED!" responded Brandon, making it a duet.

Astrid sighed. "Oh dear - time to take the boys home."

They all hugged and said goodbye as those four went back. Charlie put a hand on Olivia's shoulder. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"OK. Would you mind waiting downstairs for me? I'll just me a few minutes."

Charlie looked between her and Peter and nodded knowingly. "I'll put these in the car for you," he said, gathering up her presents and going back down the fire escape stairs. Olivia turned back to Peter and gave him a demure smile, hoisting herself up to sit on one of the small brick walls enclosing the rooftop. He walked closer to her as she settled her half-empty glass of wine on the bricks beside her.

"I just wanted to thank you, Peter - for tonight. I can't believe you and Charlie did all this for me."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

"You really have to stop calling me that. I'm trying to be serious here."

"But you're cute when you're pissed off." She raised her eyebrows assertively and he mockingly threw his hands up in surrender. "OK, I'm sorry! Don't shoot! Forget I said anything."

That made her laugh, but it didn't take her long to still again. "Dinner was beautiful, by the way. I can't believe you can actually cook."

"Why do people find that so surprising? Every guy has to learn how to cook at least one dish well if he wants to impress a girl."

"So can you cook anything else, or was that your one dish?"

"Uhh…pasta maybe. Bacon and eggs. And, you know, toast. That's about it, to be honest."

She chuckled. Suddenly she noticed a particular song wafting through the air from the stereo.

_A man in my shoes runs a life  
all the papers lie tonight  
where falling over you  
is the news of the day_

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. I just love this song."

"I know. You told me that night at the bowling alley."

"I can't believe you remember that."

He shrugged. "It's a good song - perfect to listen to when you're driving home late at night."

She nodded, taking a sip from her glass and holding it idly in her hand. The wine slightly stained her lips red, making them stand out even more against her pale skin and hair. Peter just watched her - it kind of fascinated him that she didn't know she was beautiful, but she was. Beautiful, but real. A deceiving innocence.

_Angels fall like rain  
and love is all of heaven away  
inside you the time moves and she don't fade  
the ghost in you, she don't fade_

She shifted as she sat on the wall, and he reached out a hand to still her. "Careful, you might fall off."

Either savouring the taste of the wine or preparing to talk, she licked her lips a little before she spoke. "I'll be fine."

_All the stars come down in you  
and love, love, love, - I can't give it away_

He edged a little closer. Her eyes flicked to his chest, then her heels as they dangled off her feet, and then up to his face.

"I mean it, Peter," she said, her voice pure and earnest. "Thank you so much. This was the best birthday I've had in a long time – probably ever."

"I'm glad," he said softly, looking her in the eyes so she could understand the verity of his words. He'd never seen her as carefree as she'd been tonight – out on a rooftop at a party just for her, having fun with her friends, all dressed up with the wind gently tousling her long blond hair and fairy lights illuminating her skin. She looked so young. So…_un-haunted_. Thinking back to her favourite song, he wondered if maybe, even if it was just for tonight, they had been able to drive out those bad memories and salve those old wounds.

_Inside you the time moves and she don't fade  
the ghost in you, she don't fade away_

They hung suspended there for a moment, him standing as she sat before him, both wanting the same thing but neither wanting to start it. Then, struck by some spark of boldness, Olivia just shook her head and laughed a little. She leaned forward, hooked a single finger in the open collar of his button down shirt, and pulled him in to stand between her knees. He placed both of his hands gently on her hips to steady her and keep their bodies at a chaste but intimate distance as she drew his face down to hers. She felt his tiny gasp of surprise right as their lips made contact. They stilled for a split second, stunned by the shock of what they were actually doing and how it felt, but that didn't last long. Soon they were both pulling each other deeper, exploring everything they could reach, their movements synchronised in a blessed rhythm. They each absorbed the other, memorising every detail. She was soft but ardent, and tasted like a mix between icing sugar, red wine and dynamite. He felt steady, masculine and warm, and he smelt comfortingly earthy, like rain.

She smirked into the kiss just as they pulled apart. "You were taking too long," she teased, her eyes still fluttering open.

He laughed. His fingers skittered up and down her back. "I've wanted to do that for a while, you know."

"Me too."

"Happy Birthday," he responded with his signature Peter Bishop grin. He raised a finger under her chin and planted a small, tender kiss on her lips. "By the way, how does it feel being 23?"

"Right now? Definitely not bad." She smiled, but then quickly bit her lip, glancing at the stairs. "Charlie's waiting for me," she said, gripping his shoulders for support as she hopped down off the wall, their bodies even against each other. She smoothed her hands down over his chest, holding him at a distance just intimate enough to tease him to hell. "I should go," she said. "But thanks again - for everything."

And then she was walking away, her dress rippling and heels tapping the concrete. She threw a little wave over her shoulder as she disappeared down the stairs, leaving him alone and amused in the aftershock of her whirlwind. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Damn," he muttered to himself. He smiled, running a hand over his head. He felt like a teenager. He didn't know what that kiss meant to her, but they could sort that out another time. He just wanted to savour this feeling before he went to bed and lost it to the morning.

Meanwhile, Olivia wove through the crowded bar downstairs to find Charlie waiting patiently by the car. As they drove home, she said "Thank you so much for doing this tonight, Charlie. It was wonderful. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, no problem. "Did you have a good time?"

She blushed a little, glad that he was keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah, I really did."

"You had a talk to Peter?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to thank him. You know, for what he did tonight."

"Uh-huh." He chuckled. "You made out with him, didn't you?"

That caught her completely off-guard. She looked at him open-mouthed, her eyes wide, trying to mutter an excuse or lie of some kind. He laughed out loud. "Shit, I was just joking! You know, Livvy, denial might have even worked before the long, vacant stare."

She groaned in embarrassment and sank down in her seat. Charlie patted her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, OK?" She was still blushing furiously, and he had to laugh again. "Don't look so mortified! I've seen this coming for a while."

She swallowed. "Just don't say anything, OK? That was the first time and we didn't talk about it so I still don't know if it means anything yet. It's probably just a friends with benefits thing to him, anyway," she muttered.

Charlie shook his head sincerely. "Nah, Liv, you've got nothing to worry about. That guy's been waiting on you since Orientation, for crying out loud. You're only just catching up."

"What? I thought it was just a recent thing, like since the crash."

"No, trust me. He was interested in you from the beginning. But he always assumed you were into John, and he had it in his head that John was probably the better guy anyway, so he backed off out of respect."

"How do you know all this?"

Charlie shrugged. "He told me."

"I can't believe I didn't realise until tonight how much you two talk about me behind my back, planning secret parties and everything…"

"Hey, we don't do it much, and when we do it's with good intentions. All I'm saying is it's about bloody time this happened. And you know what, I'm glad you had a great night, Liv - especially since your real birthday wasn't easy for you. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time." He smiled warmly. "And I promise, your secret's safe with me."

She nodded, knowing he was telling the truth. They fell into a comfortable silence, and she smiled to herself, staring at the passing forest out the window. She had a feeling 23 was going to be a good year - challenging like all the others of course, but she felt a sense of hope that was normally absent around her birthday. With this group of friends around her, she knew that no matter how bad things got, in the end it would be OK. What alarmed her, though, was the thought that their Basic Training was almost over. They only had a few more weeks of classes, then time off to study, then exams, and then more time off before they found out whether or not they passed. Then it was on to Secondary Training or, if they were lucky, an internship in one of the FBI departments. As excited as she was for her dreams to really take off, another part of her was worried. What if she failed? What if they all passed, but she and Charlie got stationed on opposite ends of the country? Peter had his own future to think about, too - who knew when he'd decide to take off around the world again? She didn't know what to think. All she knew was that she wanted to stay here with everyone as long as she possibly could. After tonight, there was no doubt that this was her home now.

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	20. Dating

**Mini-spoiler: enjoy the P/O goodness of this chapter while you can. Like in the show, things don't stay easy for them for very long. **

**References: Olivia's movie speech and end conversation (August)**

The Academy students were just starting their last week of classes, and Olivia and Peter had been dating for a couple of weeks now. After that first kiss at the party, she'd taken some convincing on his part to get her to go out with him and give them a serious shot. At first they'd kept it as a kind of secret experiment, just to see if it was a complete disaster or not. But after twenty minutes alone together it was clear that there was something there that neither could explain. When they told their friends they were together, nobody was surprised, but Astrid had to squeal anyway. Peter and Olivia had started spending every spare minute with each other, especially since they knew Olivia might be leaving Quantico in a couple of months time. Olivia didn't want to waste her chance to be happy like she had with John, even if in the end it didn't last and she had to go. Peter knew in his heart that he would follow her wherever she went, but it was too soon to tell her that. He didn't want to scare her off, and she was still getting used to letting him in.

On this particular afternoon, they were just walking through town, stopping at a local book store. All Olivia read these days were textbooks, so Peter had made it his mission to culture her. "What about this? I've actually read this one, it's good," he said, holding up a novel.

She read the back and threw him a smirk. "Science fiction? Really?"

"Hey, what's wrong with that? Didn't you ever watch the X-Files?" She shook her head and he shook his too in mock disappointment. "Oh, Livia, you missed out. I can't believe they ended the show this year. I was addicted."

She laughed. "I don't know that science fiction's my thing. I'm more into crime fiction."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, of course you are. You're studying to be a federal agent. I'm trying to get you to read something else for a change. And this book's good anyway, it's like a cross between crime and sci-fi. I'm buying this for you," he said, racing to the front of the store.

"No! Come back!" Olivia laughed, running after him and wrestling him for the book at the counter. "I'm not letting you pay again. I'll buy it myself."

He held the book high up so she couldn't reach it. "Ah, ah, ah! What are the rules? My date, my turn to pay."

"Walking through town barely counts as a date."

"Yeah, but I asked you if you wanted to come, so it's my turn to pay for anything. It should be my turn all the time. I'm a traditionalist."

"A traditionalist? Please, you're bloody Amish. In case you haven't heard, it's 2002 and I can pay myself."

The store owner came out to the counter and they both scrabbled to hand him their money. Peter said, "Markham, you owe me for those German science books I sold you a few months back. My money. Now."

Markham rolled his eyes and took the money from Peter's hand. Peter grinned mischievously at Olivia as she put hers back in her wallet. "So what's for dinner, honey?" he teased.

She scoffed. "Nothing unless you let me pay this time."

"No. I'm paying."

"Then I'm not coming to dinner."

Peter groaned. She could be so stubborn. "Fine, a compromise. Why don't you just come over to my place? I'll cook for us. I can't believe you've never been round before. You can come any time, you know."

"Peter, I don't even know where you live."

"Well then you definitely need to come over. You'll love it." Wearing his best charm smile, he used a single finger on her cheek to tilt her face towards his and gave her a kiss. No matter how annoyed she was at him, he always managed to win her over in this way. She could never stay mad at him for very long.

Markham coughed to get their attention and handed Peter his receipt. "There you go, lovebirds. Now get out of my shop before you make me sick." He turned to Olivia. "By the way, I have many books that give excellent advice on how to find a better boyfriend."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said as they left the store. They walked back to Peter's car and he drove them out to the farmhouse that his friend owned, the same friend who owned the Whitehorse. As they got there, they bumped into Akim just as he was leaving for his shift. When he was gone, Olivia looked at Peter questioningly.

"Wait, Akim's the guy who owns the bar? The one you got the job from?"

"Yeah," Peter replied as he led her through the cottage into the kitchen.

"I thought you were only managing the bar while the owner was away."

"Well, he only got back early last month. I asked him if I could co-manage for a little longer."

"But I thought you couldn't wait to go overseas again," she replied, hoisting herself up to sit on the bench top as he collected items from the fridge.

"Things change, Livia."

His vague answer made her concerned. "Peter?"

He put the food down and came to stand between her knees, his hands coming to rest on the tops of her thighs. "Livia, you have to understand that this is the longest I've stayed in one place since my mother died. Wherever I travelled I tried so hard not to get invested – it hurts less to leave when you don't care. But something changed. I didn't expect it, but I've really kind of grown to love Quantico, and the people here." He raised a hand so he could brush a thumb along her cheek. "When Akim first got back I started wondering if it would be better for me to take off again before I got even more attached than I already was. But part of me knew I had to give us just one more shot. If it worked, it worked - if not, then I'd move on to the next place. Lucky for me it worked."

He tried to kiss her, but she leaned away and pulled his hand down from her face, her brows furrowed in nervousness. "Peter, this can't be like that. You have so many things you want to do with your life. I can't be what's keeping you in some tiny nowhere town in Virginia, Peter. I can't."

Shit. He'd said too much. He started to backpedal. "Oh, Olivia, you're not trapping me. I mean, we've only been dating a couple of weeks. Leaving this place was always going to be hard, but leaving you – you and Charlie and Kent and everyone – but especially you…I don't know. Something about it just feels wrong now, I guess. I know it took you a little longer to come around, but I've wanted this basically since we met. And I know this is fast, but you already feel different to anyone else I've been with. I can't explain why, you just do. But no, you're hardly trapping me. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," she said, looking down.

"Does it scare you?"

"A little. Not because it doesn't make me happy."

He smiled gently. "Well then I guess we're in the same boat. I'm not used to this either – but maybe if we just take it slowly, we can figure it out together, right?"

She nodded and smoothed a hand over his chest before fisting his MIT shirt in her palm and pulling him in for a kiss. He responded immediately, running his hands chastely over her as if moulding her skin from clay. They couldn't get enough of this. Tasting each other's breath was still a delicious shock. Everything was still new, so their kisses were always both passionate and tenderly explorative as they made it their mission to burn every sensation of each other into their brains.

When the need for air got too much, she pulled away. "So what are we eating?"

"Well you kind of had my best dish at your birthday dinner, so it's all downhill from here."

"You know, I'd be happy with grilled cheese."

"I'll remember that for next time. How about pasta for tonight, though?"

She nodded eagerly and helped him gather everything they needed to cook. Half an hour and a few food fights later, they were sitting out on the back porch, eating their slightly disastrous but still yummy "culinary masterpiece". She looked out over the small block of land, watching the sun disappear through the trees, but he was only looking at her. She was so cute when she struggled to eat giant strings of spaghetti. She caught him staring at her and she laughed. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. She looked at him surprised, wondering what it was for.

He smiled sheepishly. "What? You had some sauce on your mouth," he said as if it were an excuse. She chuckled - he was shameless.

"You know what this reminds me of? Have you ever seen that old Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp?"

"The one where the two dogs kiss over a plate of pasta? Yeah."

"My Mum took me to see that when I was little. They had an anniversary screening of it in Jacksonville. I was about 6, I think. It was my first movie. I was so excited. And the curtain – you remember how they used to have a curtain before the movie started? It was this red velvet; I thought it was so beautiful. Sitting there eating popcorn with her is one of my favourite memories from when I was a kid. That and my uncle taking me kayaking." She smiled and twirled some more pasta around her fork. "You know it's a shame you never got to meet her. You know, at the wedding."

"Is she a lot like you?"

"Yes and no. She's a lot more girly than me, like Rachael. But she's tough, you know? Losing a husband and having the abusive replacement walk out will do that to you." Olivia gulped and picked at her food. "You know, we almost lost her last year. Cancer. But like I said, she's tough. She's in remission now, but she's still got to go have tests every few months. I always make sure she calls me after. I guess I'm worried it's going to come back."

Peter brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. They were surprised by a loud mooing sound. Olivia whipped her head around. She laughed. "Is that a cow?"

"Yeah, that's Gene."

"It's huge!"

"Yeah, she's a big girl."

"There's only one?"

"Well, we used to have two, but we ate Ferdinand last week." Olivia almost choked on her pasta and he laughed. "I'm kidding, it's just Gene."

"Please don't tell me you tip her when she falls asleep."

"Nah, Gene's my baby doll. I'd never do that to her."

"No, just other people's cows."

"Exactly. A man must have a code." He stacked up their empty plates. "It's still light out. You want to go for a walk, see the farm?"

"Sure."

They cleaned up and he took her hand, leading her through the field. The dusk sky was coloured with orange hues, but somehow Olivia's blonde hair seemed to catch all the light. They continued to walk through the tall blades of grass, talking and getting to know more about each other. Eventually Peter led her through some trees to a small waterhole surrounded by willows. Olivia walked along its edge and knelt down to test the water.

"It's warm. You want to swim?"

Peter gulped. In the past few weeks they'd been dating, all they'd done was kiss, which was perfect, but he could see swimming with her taking things too far too fast. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

He chuckled wryly. She obviously didn't know what it was like to be 24 year old male. Testosterone will make a guy his age follow a girl to Thailand, barefoot. She didn't understand the kind of self-control it took to be around her sometimes. She dressed modestly, which helped a lot, but every now and then something small, like a particular smile she gave him, would be enough to fill his mind with images he was glad she couldn't see. In a way, the fact that she dressed modestly was actually sexier, because there was a mystery in it, and every tiny inch of extra skin that he saw was enough to drive him insane.

She turned away from him and started stripping off her jacket, and he realised then that this was actually happening. He turned around too, peeling off clothes until he was down to his boxers. He waded into the warm water until he was shoulder deep and stayed facing the other way as he heard her start to wade in behind him. When he felt her start to swim towards him, he turned around and reached out to her. "Can you stand?"

She tried. "No, not this deep." She gripped his shoulders for support and he held onto her waist with one hand. The other splayed across her flat stomach, revelling in the feel of the bare skin there. She lifted herself above the water a little so they were at an even height. Before he could stop himself, his mouth parted slightly and his eyes flicked down to catch a glimpse of her bra-covered chest before hastily returning to her face. "I – I'm sorry," he stuttered. Already he had to hold her at a distance so she wouldn't notice his reaction to her wet, half-naked body. He inwardly groaned and started reciting the Periodic Table in his head, wondering how on earth he was going to keep himself in check.

She blushed. "It's OK." She was a little embarrassed, but she still got butterflies in her stomach. She knew she wasn't overweight or anything, but she never saw anything special when she looked in the mirror either. His reaction to her body made her feel attractive and confident. Pulling his hand lightly, she swam back to shallower water so she could stand on her own, hoping that would make it easier for him. They were both underwater to their shoulders now, and they were caught in this anticipated limbo for a moment. Wanting to assure him that everything was OK, Olivia hooked her arms loosely around his neck and pulled him close to kiss him. It started out timid but quickly turned long and languid, the water rippling with their movements. After this eased the tension, they started to get playful and experiment, trying to figure out which subtle touches here and there would make the other moan, committing every brush of skin to memory. He broke away and smiled, running his fingers through her hair, staining it dark with droplets of water. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She bit her lip and looked down, her fingers tracing tiny patterns on his chest. She still hadn't been able to get used to him saying that. Mostly when guys told her that, it was because they thought it was what she wanted to hear, or that it would get them into her pants. While she knew Peter actually meant it, it was still hard to adjust to. She felt awkward now, and a little nervous. Sensing that he'd gone too far again, he tried to cheer her up by swimming over to the rocks nearby. From there Peter taught her how to swing off ropes hanging from the trees into the water. Their laughter carried off into the night as they played like teenagers, having splash fights and dunking each other in between kisses. They were lost in their own little world, where around them the red sky was burning down to black and the water was cooling under the wind's chill, but neither of them noticed or cared.

What they also didn't notice was that far away on the hill of the farm next door, two bald men in suits were watching them intently through odd, rectangular binoculars. "They have no idea that years from now their love will be crucial to the survival of the universe," one of them said. "If they separate in its early stages, everything will be lost. We must ensure that their relationship survives this next trial."

"Is her suffering avoidable?" asked the other.

"No, August. We should try not to get involved."

"Why not?"

"Because they are important," he replied. "The pain they have and will endure together will serve to prepare them for the coming war. What was written must come to pass."

August nodded, watching as Olivia surfaced from under the water, beaming Peter a wide, genuine smile while he swam over to her. "Look how happy she is," he remarked as she pulled Peter close, kissing him hard and ardently. "It's a shame things are about to get so hard for her."

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	21. The Coward and the Hero: Part 1

**Just a warning, this chapter gets violent at one point, and deals with some heavy adult themes. I will put in a note at this part so anyone who is uncomfortable reading it can skip it. **

**References: Henry ("Olivia") **

The students had now finished their last week of classes, and they had three weeks of stuvac before their exams. Peter and Olivia were spending all their time together, so he'd help her study by quizzing her on her notes. They were curled up on the couch at his place – him underneath her leaning back across it while she rested between his legs, her back pressed into his warm chest.

"OK, next question. What's the US Department of Defence's definition for Terrorism?"

She thought for a moment. "Terrorism is the unlawful use of – or threatened use of – force or violence against individuals or property to coerce or intimidate governments or societies, often to achieve political, religious or ideological objectives."

He checked the flashcard he held and laughed. "Damn, you're good."

"Was that right?"

"Word for word."

She shrugged. "Photographic memory. Anyway, that's just terrorism. I haven't even started on my other subjects yet."

"Well, you are like three days into stuvac. Don't worry, Livia. I'm sure you'll do fine in the written tests with your wicked memory and conquer the pracs with your Dunhamator ninja skills," he pulled her a little closer. "And by the way, you're so damn cute when you wear those glasses and go on little rants about FBI stuff," he mentioned, nuzzling her neck.

She laughed. "You're shameless." He started peppering kisses along her cheek and she tilted her head back to kiss him fully. Trying not to separate them, she twisted herself around in his arms and straddled his thighs, draping her arms around his neck. They kept it simple so they wouldn't go too far, but neither of them could resist tempting themselves just a little bit. Olivia smoothed her palms over the broad scope of his chest, dragging them down his torso. Following her lead, he moved his hands up from her hips and let his fingertips creep underneath the hem of her top, running with tiny steps across the bare skin there.

His stomach muscles shivered as her hands moved up under his shirt, preparing to take it off. Suddenly Peter's watch alarm sounded, the noise breaking them apart with a mutual moan. "Looks like I've got to go to work, Livia – graveyard shift. I'll drive you back to campus."

"Thanks. It's only 9:30, I may as well get some study done in the library."

"You work too hard, you know."

"Well, I have to if I want to get a good spot in the next program."

"Fair enough, then. But take care of yourself. Charlie better not tell me you've been skipping meals to study," he joked. "I just don't want to see you tear yourself up, OK? I care about you way too much for that."

Even though his over-protectiveness made her a little nervous, she nodded. He noticed her do that thing she always did with her lip when she was uncertain, and kissed her again. He began a warm trail down her neck, making Olivia's breath catch slightly in her throat, before returning to her mouth in an attempt to drown out her weak protests. "Bishop…work…"

He pulled away, groaning. "I don't want to stop, but you're right - if I don't drop you home soon I'm going to be unemployed."

He drove her to the library - they were keeping it open 24/7 during stuvac so students could study, not that they did. Stuvac ended up being mostly used for procrastination and heavy drinking, but then again Olivia Dunham wasn't most students. She trudged her way up to the top floor where the Human Trafficking textbooks were, finding that there were only a few other students up there. After what seemed like forever, she looked up at the clock - 1:19am. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Seeing she was the only one left on the whole floor, she decided to call it a night. Picking up the books she'd used, she headed down an aisle to return them all. Out of nowhere, she heard heavy footsteps approaching.

"Well hello, Miss Dunham. I didn't think anyone would be here studying so late."

She knew that voice. It felt like ice on the tip of her spine.

Harris.

_Fuck._

He started walking down the aisle towards her, and she could feel herself start to be cornered. She dumped the rest of the books without sorting them. "I was just leaving. Excuse me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she attempted to pass him.

He blocked her way. "Where do you think you're going?" There was alcohol on his breath. She tensed, fear ripping a whole through her stomach. She knew exactly where this was heading.

"Home," she snapped icily. "_Excuse me._"

She tried to push past again. He wasn't having it. "No, I don't think so." He stepped closer, his eyes darting to the empty office behind her at the other end of the aisle. "How bout a quickie in the back, Livvy?"

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck you!_

She glared at him. Braced herself, furious. "You let me past. Right now."

"Come on, be a good girl, now. You want to pass your law exam, right? Besides, I know you want it anyway, you little slut."

She spat at him. It stunned her. She'd never spat at anyone in her life but right now it was the least she could do. She swore long ago that she'd never let anyone speak to her the way her stepfather spoke to her mother, and she certainly wasn't going to put up with it tonight.

**Violence starts here:**

Needless to say, he wasn't impressed. He grabbed her. Slammed her back against the shelves. The pain was sudden and astonishing. He gripped both her arms now, pinning her as he slobbered all down her neck. She screamed and pushed him away. "Let me go! Get off me, you son of a bitch!"

His hand covered her mouth, smothering her. "Shut your fucking mouth! It'll just be worse for you if you don't."

She bit his hand. Hard. She felt it recoil. Tried to push off his weight. Screamed again. She used a self-defence tactic they were taught in PT, but he just countered it. A hand smacked her face into the shelf. Her lip split. He laughed at her. "You think you can beat me with those class-learned moves? Honey, we wrote that shit." He hit her again. And again. The edges of her vision went black.

Everything was a blur after that. She was being dragged. Her eyes went wide. No way was she going down without a fight. She thrashed like an animal – scratching, kicking, punching, screaming. But her thoughts were always ten steps behind her body. All she could think was: this isn't happening. Not to me. No. Things like this don't happen to _me_.

Somehow they'd ended up in the office. He shut the door. "Go on, fight," he taunted. "I love a girl who likes it rough." She lashed out harder against his grip. One of her punches landed. His nose cracked beneath her knuckles. He sucker punched her in the stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air. Felt tears in her eyes.

He slammed her hard against the wall and held her there. His nose was bleeding. A flicker of pride shot through her, but it was short lived. He backhanded her across the face. "You'll pay for that," he swore. Disoriented, she tried to keep a grip on things. She couldn't move. His whole body was against her. She was nauseated as she felt how his arousal grew the more she resisted. He grabbed her face so she was looking right at him. His other hand went between them to his belt. She didn't dare look away, but glared at him dead in the eyes, fiercely defiant. He was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing how terrified she was. He smirked anyway, leaning close. "Now you're gonna get on your knees, and you're gonna swallow everything you get. And you're gonna like it, bitch."

She thrashed against him. "Try it," she spat angrily through gritted teeth. "Anything you put in my mouth you're gonna lose."

He gripped her face tighter, fingers bruising her cheeks. "No, you listen here, little girl. If you bite me, I won't think twice about killing you."

She yelped as he pulled her hair. The pain was sharp. He forced her down. Pinched her nose closed. She held her breath. No fucking way was she opening her mouth. As he was unbuttoning himself and stepped back a little, her hands were freed. She lashed out again, punching him in the gut and groin until he doubled over from the pain.

She tried to run, but somehow he grabbed her again. He was bigger. Heavier. Stronger. She fought hard. So did he. The air was knocked out of her lungs as he threw her back onto the desk. The weight of his body over her was suffocating. He gripped her wrists together with one hand. The other tore her shirt open. "So fucking beautiful," he groaned as his hand moved over her bare skin, tracing the outlines of her bra as she squirmed away from his touch. She had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from crying and pleading with him to stop. No matter how bad this got, she wasn't going to beg that bastard for a damn thing.

But she'd never felt so helpless in her life. She knew she was screaming furiously, but was so zoned out she couldn't even hear her own voice. Harris punched her in the stomach again. She gasped for air. Slumped back. Her head smacked the desk. She tried to stay conscious. Don't give up, she thought. Don't you dare fucking give up.

Through blurry eyes, she saw him eyeing the snap of her jeans. He let go of her wrists and reached for it.

Big mistake.

Her hands now free, she reached frantically around the desk, grasping for anything she could pick up and swing. Her fingertips touched something cold and hard – a vase. She clutched it. Smashed it against his face. Glass snapped and sliced at him beneath her hand. He screamed an unearthly sound and staggered back away from her, pants around his ankles.

She was free. It took her a moment to realise it. She lay there in shock, gasping for air, and then retched over the side of the table. She pulled herself up and stared at him, stunned. He stumbled and collapsed against the wall, convulsing and screaming. Blood seeped from between his fingers as they covered his face.

"My eyes!" he howled, slumping to the floor. "You BITCH!"

**Violence over: **

When she managed to stand, she didn't waste her chance to run. She bolted out of the room, slamming a chair underneath the doorknob behind her. She went down two floors before she ran into another face. A janitor who was mopping stared horrified as she sprinted down the stairs toward him. "Oh my God, what happened to you?" He tried to approach her.

"No!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me!"

He held up his hands in defence. "It's OK. I'm not going to hurt you. You need some help."

"No, I have to get out of here."

"You're bleeding."

She looked down. Her hands were cut open from the glass, her shirt torn to shreds, her jeans half-unzipped; her whole body marred with forming bruises and split skin. She stumbled, staring at her bleeding hands. "I didn't even feel that," she breathed. The adrenaline lost its edge and pain began to register. She started shaking. Everything burned. "It hurts…" she whimpered.

"Just sit down, honey, OK? What's your name?"

"Olivia"

"I'm Henry. You're gonna be alright, Olivia. Let me call security."

Olivia knew was that she needed someone she could trust to be with her, but she couldn't let any of her friends see her like this. "Colonel Jacobsen," she said to Henry. "He's a psych lecturer who lives on campus. Can you tell security to bring him too? Please?"

He nodded and made the call. Minutes later, Jacobsen stormed up the stairwell with security guys and a medic. He took off his shirt and knelt down, draping it around Olivia's shoulders as the medic started examining her. "Olivia, are you alright?"

"Sir, we need more medics," she said, still in shock.

"Olivia, you're going to be OK -"

"No, not for me. For him. I cut his eyes. He's bleeding heaps. Up in the office on the fourth floor. I locked him in." The security guys exchanged a nervous look and sped up the stairs.

"Who was it, Olivia?" Jacobsen asked softly.

"Harris."

Jacobsen closed his eyes briefly, imagining the worst. "Olivia, we're going to make sure he gets what he deserves, but first we need to get you to the doctors. Do you want me to call any of your friends?"

She shook her head frantically. "No, please. Don't tell them," she begged. She looked down at herself, her eyes stinging with shameful tears. She felt like if any of them saw her in this state she'd never be able to look them in the eyes again.

"No one's going to tell them anything, OK? But Olivia, tonight's going to be hard. You should have a friend come down to support you. You don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to. If you find that it gets too much, we can ask them to leave, OK?"

Only two names came to her mind. As much as she wanted Peter there, a part of her felt like her boyfriend would never want her again after this. Who would? She felt ashamed. Humiliated. Worthless. Disgusting. He probably wouldn't be able to even look at her, all bloody and beaten. She wept at the thought of that.

In the end, she asked him to call Charlie.

At the hospital, Harris was taken to emergency surgery. Olivia and the doctors confirmed she wasn't raped, to everyone's relief. They treated her wounds, collected evidence and took her statement after she decided to press charges. She knew it was dangerous – he was a powerful man and this would probably affect her career for years, but she knew she had to make sure this didn't happen to another girl. Who knew how many others he'd already attacked? Maybe if someone before her had reported him, this might never have happened to her tonight.

The medical staff were sympathetic with her, but she still felt completely alone. They moved her up to a room where she could stay the night. Jacobsen was so kind, waiting with her for Charlie to come. When her friend finally entered the room, he left to give them some space.

It was like time stopped. Charlie just stood still. He looked like he couldn't speak, but somehow he managed it. "My God, Livvy, what happened?"

"What did they tell you?" she breathed coarsely. Her throat was raw.

"Nothing - just that you were here." He looked over her body, taking in her beaten face and stitched, bandaged hands. She felt grateful that she was wearing hospital pyjamas now and he couldn't see more of her bruises. "Livvy, if you don't want to explain…"

"It was Harris. In the library."

Somehow she found the courage to look him in the eyes. She could see it - the exact moment when he put two and two together, when the worst case scenario crossed his mind and wrote itself all over his face.

"Oh Livvy, he didn't," he whispered, his rough voice breaking. "Please tell me he didn't."

"No. He tried. But no. I got away."

He ran his hands over his head and closed his eyes, his face tensing in despair. She'd never seen him look so hopeless. He slowly approached where she was sitting in her bed, curled in a ball. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Livvy. May I hug you?" he asked gently. "I'll understand if you say no."

She wrapped her arms around her knees a little tighter and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. "Charlie, I don't know if I can handle that yet…But I'd really like it if you could hold my hand."

"Of course, Livvy. Anything." Her hand tentatively slid into his. They were both shaking. He felt her initially flinch at the contact, but then she squeezed hard, like he was the only thing keeping her breathing – and maybe, tonight, he was. He gently squeezed back, just enough to let her know that she wasn't alone.

Something snapped. She started sobbing. Having Charlie see her like this just made everything real. She buried her face in her knees and just bawled, feeling like she couldn't even breathe. Somehow through a sick, wet choke she spluttered out, "I tried…I tried so hard, but…" She gasped for air and sobbed again, her shoulders shuddering. "Oh Charlie, he wouldn't stop…"

His heart broke for her. He tried to soothe her but she barely heard anything he was saying. He didn't know what to do. "Livvy, do you want me to get Peter to come?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No…Don't, please… I can still feel Harris on me, Charlie. I can still smell his breath - it's like it's in my skin. I feel disgusting…" She wiped her face as she wept. "I think Peter loves me, Charlie. He hasn't told me yet, but I can tell. If he sees me like this… He'll never want me now. I'm too damaged. He'll leave and go somewhere like he always does and he won't ever come back for me."

"Livvy, you know that isn't true. You said yourself, he loves you to pieces. And when he finds out what happened, that's not going to change. Trust me, he'll want to kill Harris, but he'll also want to do everything he possibly can to make you feel better. No matter what happened tonight, Liv, he will never leave you. And neither will I." He sighed. "How about you get some rest and we can think about calling him in the morning, OK?"

She nodded numbly. She let go of his hand and took some painkillers, allowing herself to succumb to her exhaustion. She lay back in her bed and he pulled up a chair beside her. "Livvy?"

"Yeah?" she replied weakly.

"I just wanted to say…" he murmured, his hand rediscovering hers. "What you did tonight wasn't easy. It wasn't easy, and it was brave. And I couldn't be more proud of you." A tear slipped from her cheek to her pillow as she closed her eyes.

He stayed with her through every nightmare, soothing her back to sleep each time. After a few hours she finally gave in - she had to see Peter, even if she was scared of his reaction. Charlie let a nurse watch Olivia sleep so he could go outside and make the call.

It was 6:41am - Peter would have only just finished his late shift. Charlie sighed and waited in the seating area down the hall from Olivia's room, head in his hands. He'd never had to deliver news like this before. No matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn't think of a decent way to tell Peter that his girlfriend with was beaten to a pulp and almost raped while he was just at work. There was no decent way.

Finally, Peter stormed in, looking around frantically until his tired eyes finally settled on Charlie. "Where is she?"

Charlie stood up to meet him. He tried to swallow, but his throat was tight and dry. "She's asleep in there," he said, gesturing to her room. "The nurse is watching her."

"What is going on? Is she sick?"

"No, Peter. She's not sick."

"Well what, then?"

"Listen, she's going to be alright. That's all the matters now, OK?"

"Charlie, what's wrong with her?" Peter pressed, panicking.

Charlie couldn't respond. He just shook his head, rubbing his bleary eyes. Swore under his breath. Looked away. He couldn't even get the words out.

"Charlie!" Peter snapped. "What the hell happened? Tell me! What is wrong with Olivia?"

Charlie put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes for the first time. Peter knew then that it was something really serious. He went quiet, still. Seeing fear settle into Peter's face, Charlie ushered him over to the seats in the waiting room. "Sit down, Peter," he said softly, his voice weighed down with burden. "There's something you and I need to talk about."

**OK, get your breath back. **

**Before you all kill me, let me assure you that, like always, P/O will survive this. **

**Please review.**


	22. The Coward and the Hero: Part 2

**Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. I expected people to say that I'd gone too far, but all of you had so much trust in the story. Thank you for not biting my head off!**

**References: Peter's hero speech (from one of the season 3 promos), Harris/Broyles confrontation (No-Brainer and Pilot), losing control speech (Same Old Story/Jacksonville)**

Shell-shocked, Peter sat down with Charlie. "You're scaring me here," he said. "Please, I really care about this girl. You gotta tell me what's wrong. Just say it. _Please_."

Charlie somehow brought himself to look Peter in the eyes. "Olivia was studying in the library last night, after you dropped her off. It got late. Hardly anyone else was even in the building…" He trailed off and swore under his breath again. "Harris…He must have followed her up there…"

"_What?_" Peter's head imploded at the mention of that man's name.

"Peter, listen to me. She's going to be alright."

"What did he do to her?" he pushed angrily, even though he was terrified of the answer.

"She and the doctors confirmed that he didn't rape her. But he tried, Peter. He fucking tried, and he came close. She got away and she's hurt but she's going to be fine."

Peter's eyes went wide. All the colour drained from his face. He couldn't make any sound. His hands clenched. His breathing came heavy. "Oh my God…" he finally choked. He was hung somewhere desperate in between fury and despair. He stood up and paced, not knowing whether to run or cry or beat the living shit out of something. Then the images came, the sounds – her screaming, crying, powerlessly struggling…His imagination sliced at him like the blades of razors. He staggered, running to a nearby rubbish bin where he gagged and emptied the contents of his stomach. Charlie laid a hand on his shoulder, not knowing what to say.

Peter raised his head, angry tears in his eyes. "I'll kill that son of a bitch. I swear to God, I'll fucking kill him."

"Olivia almost beat you to it. Harris just got out of surgery. Broyles has been drilling the doctors for details."

"She fought back." It wasn't a question. He knew she would have.

"_Fought back?_ She kicked his ass. That bastard didn't know what he was in for. She punched, kicked, bit, you name it - scratched him so hard she snapped two fingernails clean off. She's got defensive wounds - mostly cuts and bruises. She needed stiches but no surgery. He's worse off physically. She broke his nose and then smashed glass in his face, cut him up real bad. They just finished operating on his eyes to try and save his sight. They say he'll be awake soon."

Peter nodded, pride actually swelling in him. Yes. That was his Olivia. He glanced at the door of her room, knowing she was sleeping somewhere on the other side. "Have you been able to see her?"

"Yeah, but the whole situation's on lockdown. Broyles only let me call you because Livvy asked for you this morning and you're her boyfriend. You'll have to sign a bunch of forms, though, saying you won't talk. No one's telling anyone anything until they figure out how they're prosecuting that psycho covertly. Bloody politicians. Don't want to cause the Bureau any embarrassment. But you might be able to see her soon and that's all that matters."

"How was she last night?"

"In shock, mostly. Ashamed. Humiliated. She wished you were there, but she's scared you won't want her anymore after this. Damaged goods, she said, like she was disgusting now because of what Harris did to her. That was the word she used. 'Disgusting'."

"_What?_ That's insane. You know I care too much for her to ever think like that."

"I'm not the one you need to convince, man."

Peter nodded soberly, taking deep breaths. "She just turned 23," he muttered bitterly.

Charlie shook his head. "Too damn young."

"Thank you – for being the one to tell me," Peter said sincerely. "I know it can't have been easy. You should get some sleep, Charlie. You look like shit."

Charlie sighed, wiping his groggy eyes with his palms. "I need to go back and pick up some clothes for her."

"If she wakes up I'll let her know you were here."

Charlie nodded, standing. "By the way, man," he said. "She knows you're in love with her."

Peter was dumbstruck. He hadn't told her that yet. He hadn't told anyone. "Are you sure?"

Charlie weakly smiled. "She's a woman. She knows," he said, leaving the hospital. Peter waited and waited, occasionally seeing an official from the Academy. He recognised Broyles from the crash, but he also met Jacobsen. Broyles told him that Jacobsen was the one to bring Olivia to the hospital last night, and the first thing Peter did was go and thank the man a thousand times over. As Jacobsen sat and comforted Peter, a nurse approached them to say that Olivia was awake, but they could only see her one at a time.

When Peter went in, he barely recognised her. Her face was swollen and bruised; her beaten body curled up as she held herself and stared out the window. It was only when she looked at him that he recognised his Olivia. In her eyes, amid the fear and brokenness, there was a glimmer of bravery. There was still fight in her.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, Livia, it's me," he replied softly, somehow finding his voice. "Charlie went home to pick up some things for you."

She eyed him closely as he stood at the door. "Come here," she said. "If you want to."

"You sure?"

She nodded. He hesitantly approached her bed and sat along its edge. She tentatively reached her bandaged fingers out to touch his face. "You're crying," she murmured.

He blinked his unshed tears away. He had to be strong for her. "Don't worry about me. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I guess. The drugs are numbing out most of it. They say I'll even get to go home this afternoon."

"That's great." His hand came up to timidly grasp the hand on his cheek as he laid a tender kiss on the inside of her wrist. She flinched slightly. He was trembling. "I'm so glad you made it out of there, Livia. But I'm sorry it had to happen at all."

"It's not your fault, Peter."

"I know. But you need to understand it's not yours either, you hear me?"

She looked down. "I'm OK, I think. I'm not sure yet. But last night…" She closed her eyes. "Oh, Peter, I was so scared."

"I know, Livia. I know how hard it must have been, but I heard what you did. You were so brave -"

She abruptly dropped his hand. "No, you don't know." The angst in her voice burned him. "Don't tell me that you know. You weren't there. You didn't have him hitting you, smothering you, tearing your clothes off while no one was hearing you scream, so don't you _dare_ tell me that you know what it's like to be that scared."

"I didn't mean it like that, Livia. You're right. I don't have any idea at all. I'm so sorry."

She nodded, numb, her face returning to emotionless steel. "Me too. I don't usually…"

"What?"

"Lose control"

"To tell you the truth it was kind of a relief. You seem so together with everything that's been going on, but you have every reason to be angry. And as for you being scared last night? You fought hard. You didn't give up. That's the difference between a coward and a hero – they're both scared. It's what a hero does that makes them a hero. Olivia, you were so brave - I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do. I just want you to know that you're not alone here. Is there anything I can do for you? You know I'll do anything, right?"

"I know. But I can't think of a single thing that would make this easier for either of us."

He nodded, reaching for her hand again. It took her a moment, but she let him have it. He looked adoringly into her eyes, but he found himself fighting winces at the sight of her injuries. He clenched his free hand at the thought that someone had deliberately done this to her with the intent of doing much worse. She noticed how hard he was finding it to look at her. Blinking back tears, she broke eye contact and stared out the window.

"Olivia?"

"You don't have to stay," she said coldly. "I know you were working all night."

"Livia, you know I'm not leaving your side. I care for you too much."

"You're lying." She bit her lip, her eyes watery. "If that's true, then why can't you even look at me?"

His heart broke. Did she really think he didn't want her anymore? "Hey…" he whispered gently. He cautiously edged a little closer to her, tipping a finger under her chin so he could look her in the eyes. "How I feel about you doesn't change because of something _he_ did. That doesn't change because of anything. But yes, Olivia, right now it is hard to see you hurt, because all I feel when I see your bruises is anger at the man who did this. But none of that anger's for you, Olivia. None of it. And you know I think you're beautiful."

She suddenly jerked away from him. Clenched her eyes shut in fear.

_Harris tore her shirt open, one hand moving over the bare skin of her stomach up to her breasts as she struggled. "So fucking beautiful," he groaned, his other hand reaching between them for his-_

"OLIVIA!"

Her eyes flew open. She frantically looked around, seeing that she was just in the hospital. She gasped for air as tears came to her eyes. That memory – it was so real. Peter was shocked, holding up his palms to show that he wasn't a threat. "Olivia, I'm so sorry, what did I do?" She looked down and wrapped her arms around her knees for comfort. "I'm sorry," he repeated desperately. "I didn't mean to scare you, sweetheart, I swear. I just -"

"He called me that."

"What?"

"When he was trying to rape me," she whispered, so softly he barely heard it. "He kept telling me I was beautiful."

Pure rage scorched Peter from the inside out. It wasn't just Olivia who was attacked last night – it was their relationship, too. He couldn't even tell his girlfriend that she was beautiful without her getting terrifying flashbacks. Harris had taken even the simplest rights away from them. Peter somehow bottled his fury deep inside himself, where the lid he kept on it threatened to burst. "You know I mean it differently to how he did, don't you? I say it because I -"

"I know. I just don't think I can handle you saying it yet. I'm sorry, Peter -"

"It's not your fault." He couldn't hold back his resentment any longer. "Fucking prick," he spat bitterly. "No one deserves to be harmed this way, especially not you. I want Harris dead. I swear to you, I'll fucking -"

"Don't. Please."

"He deserves it!"

"Stop it! You're not like him, Peter. You don't get violent with me - you don't take advantage or get possessive. It tears me up, seeing you so hateful. Don't let this eat you whole. Don't become like him. _Please._"

He softened. All he wanted then was to kiss her, but she was no where near ready for that. He gently made to cup her face, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted. She didn't, but he felt her shiver, her breath catching. It would take little steps, he thought, before they could ever get back to normal again - before she would be comfortable with him holding her and kissing her again. But he would stay as long as it took. She was worth the wait. Every damn minute of it.

"There isn't anything I can do for you?" She shook her head and he sighed. "Well, have you eaten anything this morning?"

"No."

"Do you want to get out of this room for a bit? Come to the cafeteria with me?"

She shook her head again, this time a little more vehemently. "I can't go out there yet. I still haven't gotten used to people seeing me like this."

"OK, how about I duck out and grab something? What do you want?"

"I'm fine, really. I'm not that hungry."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Olivia. You should eat. What do you want?"

"I dunno, anything I guess. Whatever you're having."

He knew he wasn't going to get a better answer, so he tentatively kissed the back of her hand and stood up. "Do you want me to get a nurse to come and stay with you?"

"I'm fine, Peter."

He wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to argue. "I'm coming back soon," he assured her, heading down the corridor to the small cafeteria. On the way he noticed two cops guarding a door to one of the rooms. A few people from the FBI who had been there handling the situation were drilling into a doctor for answers. Peter saw Jacobsen as he approached.

"Colonel, what's going on?"

"Harris is awake," Jacobsen replied. "The doctors did what they could, but Harris is permanently blind and his face is badly scarred and disfigured. Broyles is questioning him."

Peter tensed, looking towards the room the cops were guarding. "He's in there?" He clenched his fists. Jacobsen tried to hold him back. "Don't bother," Peter snapped. He pushed past and got closer to the room - close enough to overhear the muffled sounds of Broyles and Harris shouting as Jacobsen tried to keep him away.

"_So I got a little drunk and had a minor lapse in judgement. These things happen!"_

_"A lapse in judgement that will haunt this young woman for the rest of her life! __Sanford, if__ you push this I will stake my career on her behalf." _

"_Are you threatening me, Phillip?"_

"_You decide to go after Olivia Dunham, you're going after me, and all the red tape in the world won't protect you."_

Jacobsen stood between him and the door. "Peter, you can't."

"_Do you even know what kind of girl you're talking abo__ut, Phillip? __She lies, that little slut! She wanted it! She'd let anyone fuck her!"_

Peter snapped.

He tried to charge in and rip out that bastard's throat, but he was being held back by too many hands to count. "Sir, you can't go in there!" the cops shouted as they pulled him back into the waiting area between Olivia's room and Harris'.

"I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him!" he screamed as he struggled.

"Peter, stop it!" yelled Jacobsen.

"YOU HEAR ME, HARRIS? YOU'RE DEAD!"

"PETER, STOP! Olivia needs you to be stronger for her than this. Get it together."

Peter stopped resisting then, but let out something resembling a viscous growl as he broke away, pacing furiously. Broyles stormed out of Harris' room and over to the group of agents. "What the hell is going on here? I'm in the middle of an interrogation."

"You're really going to prosecute that bastard covertly?" Peter shouted. "What's the worst that could happen to him? He gets swept under the rug for a year or two in prison then pawned off to another department?"

"We're doing what we can. I don't like it any more than you do, but this is way above both of our heads."

"That's bullshit!" he screamed. "I don't care how high his connections go, he is still a fucking thug who beat the shit out of my girlfriend and tried to rape her last night!"

"Bishop, that's enough!"

"For God's sake, she is _23 years old_! Fuck you, and fuck your politics! And I swear, Broyles, you better keep me away from that son of a bitch before I go in there and cut off his FUCKING HEAD!" Peter turned away and threw his fist into the plaster wall. "FUCK!"

"STOP!" they heard someone scream.

They all turned in shock to see Olivia at the door of her room down the corridor. She was shaking. She'd seen Peter's outburst. She hadn't found it all glamorous and sweet like in the movies. It was sickening and violent, and it scared her to hell and back. "Stop it!" she cried. "All of you, just stop…"

Peter swayed on his feet, gently trying to approach her while the others stepped back to give them some space. "Olivia? Sweetheart, go back to bed."

"Don't come near me, Peter," she sobbed, gripping the door frame as he made his way over. "You're scaring me…Please...I can't…You're scaring me, stop."

He looked down at his quivering, bleeding hand. He felt nauseated. To think that he had actually reminded her of what had happened to her, that she saw even an ounce of that violence in him…the shame he felt was beyond all measure. "I'm so sorry, Livia. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured as he gently reached out to her. "It's going to be al-"

She slapped him.

"NO! Don't touch me!" His mind reeled a little from the shock of it. Her eyes flew wide open in panic. "Oh my God. Peter, I didn't mean to -"

"It's OK," he said quickly. His heart broke as she cried into her hands. She couldn't even look at him. "Do you want me to go? If I scared you I am so, so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. But Olivia I need to know if you want me to stay."

She thought for a moment. "I don't know," she finally whimpered. "I don't know."

A motherly nurse approached them gently. "Olivia, honey, maybe it'd be best if you went back to bed for a while. If you want to see Peter or anyone else later I'm sure they'll be right outside, OK?" They both nodded sombrely in response. Olivia started to go back inside her room.

"I'm not going anywhere, Olivia," he reassured her with all his heart. Olivia glanced at Peter one last time before closing the door, her eyes laden with despair.

Peter dragged himself back to the waiting area and collapsed into a chair with his head in his hands. The nurse walked over to him. "I know you were trying to do the right thing, honey," she said as she took his bleeding hand and bandaged it. "But it's important to give her some space to come to terms with what's happened. She was nearly raped last night and all day she's been surrounded by men – angry men. I know you're angry for the right reasons, but all she sees right now is a threat. You have to give her time."

He nodded, devastated. The nurse gave him a sad smile and left. After a while Broyles came and sat beside him. "I apologise, Peter," he said honestly. "You're right. We're too restricted at this point to do much to Harris, but you got me thinking. We can't do much with just one girl, but we suspect that Olivia wasn't the first assault victim. She definitely wasn't the only one harassed. We'll launch an appeal at the Academy for any other victims to come forward. If they find out Olivia's willing to testify, hopefully those who were too scared to press charges before will present themselves. Then we'll have some real ammunition here."

Peter felt the verity in his words and nodded appreciatively. He'd underestimated this man. "I'm sorry too. I know you're trying to do the right thing. This must be hard for you. I heard Harris is your friend."

"He was. Not anymore." He put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "If there's anything I can do…" he trailed off. Peter shook his head. Broyles nodded solemnly and went to continue handling the situation, leaving Peter alone.

He had never felt so helpless before. The girl he loved was dealing with one of the hardest trials of her life and all he'd done was make it worse for her. He had no idea how they were going to get through this. He wondered how long it would take Olivia to let herself be happy again. Not just "fine", but _happy_.

All he wanted was his Olivia back. But right now it seemed like she was utterly unreachable. He rested his head in his hands bitterly and started to cry as the exhaustion and trauma of the night finally broke him.

He feared that he'd lost her forever.

**Please Review!**


	23. Because I belong with you

Olivia had been out of the hospital for a few days and was pouring herself into her study. She constantly insisted that she was fine, but Charlie knew she was hurting more than she let on. That morning, Broyles called all the students and lecturers together (except Olivia and Charlie) to launch the Academy's appeal for other Harris victims to come forward. Broyles had agreed not to use Olivia's name, just saying that a student was recently assaulted and had agreed to testify. The hope was that if more victims came forward, the FBI would have no choice but to stop Harris from cheating the system. Charlie was trying to cheer her up in any way he could think of – he always had that girl's back.

"It's so quiet," said Charlie, looking out over the empty grounds of the Academy while he cooked breakfast. "Have a break from the study, Livvy. You've had your head in that textbook since 6am." He scooped the pancakes out of the frying pan and onto plates for them. "Come over and eat something."

"Charlie, I told you I wasn't hungry."

He put on his best comic shock face. "But I just spent _all that time_ making you these irresistible strawberry pancakes!" he teased, taking a bite and wafting a plate in front of her face. "Smell that? That is the smell of culinary brilliance, Livvy. Come on, I know they're your favourite. Please?"

How could she resist that cheeky smile? She yawned and tore her glasses off, combing her fingers through her hair as she sat with him. She didn't realise how hungry she was until she started eating. He was right – those pancakes were pretty damn good.

"So have you thought about Peter's offer to take you out tonight?"

"I said OK."

"As long as you're ready," he said, trying not to question her.

The continued eating, and after a while Olivia looked at her watch. "Broyles will be done speaking soon. He told me to go and see him afterwards."

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked, cleaning up for them.

"I'll be fine, Charlie."

Olivia gathered some clothes and went off to the bathroom, locking the door and turning off the lights. Since the attack she'd always showered and dressed in the dark and avoided reflective surfaces at all costs. With every bruise she saw there came a distinct memory– on her wrists from where he'd grabbed her, her stomach from where he'd beaten her into breathlessness, her breasts from when his hands had violently pawed at her… She scrubbed at her skin until it was raw and pulled on her new clothes, turning the lights back on. She changed the bandages on her hands – she'd get the stitches out in a couple of days – and tucked her camping flick-knife back in her pocket. She'd been secretly carrying it around lately. Just in case.

She pulled on a huge, shapeless jumper and emerged from the bathroom. Saying goodbye to Charlie, she headed down and waited in Broyles' office. She knew Broyles was no threat after all he'd done to help her, but the idea of being alone with one of her male teachers still made her shudder. She steeled herself. She was tougher than that – she had to be. Finally Broyles entered the room. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Dunham. How are you?"

"Fine."

"Dunham," he pressed.

"I'm OK," she affirmed. "Not good, but better every day. My friends are looking out for me."

He nodded. "People seemed responsive to the appeal, but you should understand that may be a while before anyone speaks up."

"I know."

"There's something else," he said. "Colonel Jacobsen tells me you're refusing medical/misadventure exemption from your upcoming exams?"

"Yes, sir."

"Olivia," he began sincerely. Hearing him address her by her first name was odd. "You're not expected to complete your exams after what occurred this week. We'll give you estimate marks based on your past performance to determine whether or not you pass -"

"With all due respect, sir, I want to take the tests."

"Dunham -"

"Please. I've been dying to study here since I was nine years old. If I pass on estimated marks, I'll never know if I actually would have passed the finals or not. That's just not good enough for me. I've worked too hard to pass the course by default. I want to do this honestly, sir."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "If I allow this I don't want you putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. If I hear from your roommate or anyone else that you're not taking care as you should, then you won't be sitting for those exams. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course, sir."

"Alright. You can continue your study. But you'll be given special consideration during the marking process – is that a fair compromise?"

She nodded. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

Broyles eyed her closely. "You'd make a hell of an agent, Dunham," he said. "You've shown tremendous resilience and determination not just recently but throughout this entire program. And should you pass the course, I'd like to invite you to be an intern on my team up in Boston next year."

Olivia's head spun. Did he just offer her a placement? She had a million questions and thanks, but she bit her tongue. "I-I'd be honoured," was all she managed to get out.

He knowingly smiled slightly at the student's eagerness. Olivia reminded him very much of how driven he was as a recruit. "That's all for today, Dunham. Make sure you're taking care of yourself. I'll be in touch."

With that she was dismissed, and she went back up to her flat to study with Charlie until Peter came by to pick her up. He took her out to the night markets in Prince William Forrest Park, where they wandered through the stalls, got dinner and listened to buskers play around the main fountain. They found a bench to sit on and watched the world go by as they talked. Peter swelled with pride every time he saw her smile faintly. She wasn't laughing yet, but she'd get there. For a while it was almost like they'd gone back to when they were just friends hanging out. Almost.

But the evidence of trauma was there. It hung thick and viscous in the air between them. Early on in the night he'd placed his hand on the small of her back instinctively, but she'd flinched before he'd realised what he'd done. She tried to say that she wanted him to keep trying, that she was fine and he didn't need to apologise, but he still felt guilty and just stopped trying to touch her altogether. His words were warm, but his body was cold. She'd try to touch him or initiate something more, but he'd politely avoid her. His distance only made her feel more uneasy than the brief shock she'd felt at his touch. All she wanted was to go back to when he would hold her and kiss without pause, but that was really hard to achieve when he wasn't even willing to try.

Eventually Peter drove them back to the Academy and parked the car. He got out and walked with her to her building, just to make sure she got in safely. He didn't want to put her in that awkward at-the-door situation where she'd have to wonder what kind of physical goodbye was appropriate, so he stopped at the bottom of the steps. He watched as Olivia kept walking up to the door before she realised. She turned and looked down at him, puzzled.

"I had a great time tonight, Olivia," he said honestly.

"Me too," she replied, softening.

"I'd love to go out again sometime this week, if you want to."

"Of course."

"Great," he said, with a soft charming smile, hands in his pockets. "So I guess I'll see you later, OK? Goodnight, Olivia." Knowing that she was safely at the door, he started to walk away. Olivia didn't know how to react. She knew he was trying to be a gentleman, but he'd barely touched her all night (and barely let her touch him) and now he was leaving without a hug or a kiss or anything remotely affectionate. She felt alone, frustrated, scared. She was caught somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to rip his head off. For some reason, she decided on the latter.

"Seriously?"

He turned back. "What?"

She shrugged. "You're not even going to try?"

"Olivia…"

"You know what, don't. I understand if you don't want me anymore after what happened. I'm damaged goods - I get it. But you could at least have the guts to tell me to my face. At least then I'd know I was wasting my time." She started to go inside her building.

"Stop," Peter retorted and she stilled, turning back to him. "You know I still care for you. I just don't want to pressure you for anything. You don't need that."

"What I don't need is a boyfriend you won't touch me. Or look at me. Or even _attempt_ a kiss goodnight." Her voice was starting to crack now, but she fought to keep it steady. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk around here now? Everywhere I go people stare at me. Except they're not looking at _me_ – they're looking at my bruises, and it is beyond humiliating. But the one person I want to look at me – the one person I thought could actually see _me _through all of this – he can't even bear to look me in the eyes without being sick to his stomach -"

"No, stop! Don't go there, Olivia," he snapped insistently, climbing the steps. "You have never repulsed me. Never. What repulses me is what he did."

"But the evidence is all over my face so it amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry! OK?" he yelled. "But honestly, Olivia, can you blame me? What he did to you was horrific and disgusting and -

"Don't you think I know that?" she yelled back. "I know that better than you. You weren't the one he did it to, so don't you dare try and tell me what it was."

"Then stop acting like it didn't happen – or like it didn't matter!"

"Peter, I've come to terms with it and I'm moving on. How many times do I have to tell you I'm -"

"You are NOT fine! You're not fine and you're not ready for this. You think I haven't noticed all the little differences in you? The fact that you're hardly eating, you hide your body under huge jumpers even if it's hot…"

"Stop it."

"…you're not sleeping, you're always on edge…"

"Shut up!"

"…Charlie's saying you've been taking showers 24/7 and crying at night when you think he's asleep -"

"So now you and Charlie are talking about me behind my back again?"

"We're trying to help! We don't know how to, but we're _trying_, Livia. Why can't you just let us?"

"This has nothing to do with you! This was between me and Harris. I don't need either of you - can't you just stay out of it and let me deal with it alone?"

"How can you say this has nothing to do with us? We know you have it a million times worse, but don't you dare act like you're the only one who was hurt, Olivia. That night in the hospital we were _barely breathing_. And just so you know, you're not the only one who's being stared at, either. Do you have any idea how many people see your injuries and automatically assume that I've been abusing you? People look at me like I'm a monster even though I would NEVER touch you!"

He stepped back, running a hand over his head and pacing a little, struggling to keep his anger in check. "Our relationship is hanging on by a thread and I don't know what to do anymore, Olivia. I can't win with you – you're so ambivalent I don't even know how to act. If I get too close, you're scared I want to hurt you, and if I back off too much, you're scared I don't want you at all. And I know that turning fear into anger is a survival mechanism for you, but you know what? I'm scared too. Hell, I'm just as scared of you as you are of me. Whenever I'm around you I'm scared to move, I'm scared to breathe, I'm scared to touch you!"

"If this is so damn hard for you, Peter, then why the hell are you still here?" she yelled before she could stop herself. "Why don't you just go? That's what you do best, isn't it? Disappear when things get hard?"

Peter stopped dead. "Did you really just ask me that?"

Olivia' eyes fell closed in regret. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that -"

"No, I'll answer," he spat, his voice biting. He stood toe-to-toe with her. "You know what, Olivia? Right now I'd kill to be somewhere else – to be _anywhere_ but here. Because you're unbearable, Olivia. _This_ is unbearable. I can think of a hundred reasons why I should leave Quantico. Because you're scared of me, because I still want to travel, because it'd probably hurt a hell of a lot less than staying in this fucking town – but in the end?" He took a breath through gritted teeth. Clenched his hands in frustration. "I can't move my feet, Olivia. Not even if I tried. Because I belong with you. You're home. At times like this I really wish you weren't, but you are. And I've got nothing more to say to you tonight."

He tore himself away from her and started down the steps. He noticed for the first time in their argument that it was raining, as both of them had been protected under the small awning over the door. He felt a shaking hand tug fiercely on his jacket. "Wait," he heard her choke. "Please." He reluctantly turned to look at her. She was trying not to cry, her watery eyes begging him not to go. He softened, allowing her to wordlessly pull him back under shelter. It was the first time he'd seen her really let her guard down since the hospital. It was about time, too.

Olivia bit her lip, fighting tears, trying to get her words out. "I'm just so tired, Peter. I'm tired of not being able to sleep at night, and of waking up scared every morning, and of having to see what was done to me happen over and over again in my head. And I'm tired of hating and being so angry – at _him_, at everyone…"

She closed her eyes and turned her face to the ground. Both her hands laid hold of him now, doing tender violence to his clothes. "The worst part is…I am so _tired_ of hating you. I'm tired of being scared of you. I know I'm pushing you away, but I don't know how to stop. And when you don't touch me, when you act like we're just friends now…" She furrowed her brows in pain and smoothed a hand over his restless heart. "Sometimes I think back to when we were happy, you know? Like when we were at the rooftop party, or in the waterhole, or studying at your house - and I can't help but think, like, "God, he's never going to hold me like that again." And it hurts too much. I just want to go back to before, but I don't think we can. I feel like we're unfixable and I can't…I can't…" She finally gave up fighting her tears and cried softly. "God, Peter, I'm so sorry…"

"Hey…" he whispered, resisting the urge to take her into his arms and never let her go. No matter how annoyed or mad he was, he'd never been able to stand seeing her cry. He pried her hands from his jacket, taking them in his own. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten angry like that. We both said things we didn't mean. Olivia, don't cry…" He threaded their fingers together. Slowly pulled her closer. "I'm not going anywhere. Hey…Shhh…," he whispered soothingly.

After a few minutes she looked up at him, her eyes now dry, her breath shaky at their proximity. She reached a hand out to touch his face. In that moment he was torn between tearing himself from the feel of her skin and kissing her senseless – but he knew she couldn't handle either, and to be honest neither could he. But God, they both needed _something_. They were never going to move on if they didn't take any risks.

"You really want me to try?" he asked timidly.

She nodded. "If it gets too much we can stop."

"I don't want to trigger any memories or anything. I'm nervous," he confessed, looking down at their linked hands.

"Me too."

He smiled faintly, trying to shake off his nerves. Little steps, he reminded himself. He squeezed her fingers a little as he gently, timidly, leaned in. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tensed as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. He paused there and felt her shiver apprehensively. Pulling back, he saw her relax and take a breath. It was harder than she thought it would be, but not painful. She bit her lip in a weak smile and nodded for him to try again. He complied, going to her other cheek. This time, he felt her shiver for the right reasons. Instead of tensing she seemed to melt into his touch, as if wanting to absorb the warmth of him.

When he pulled away again, she felt a loss, glancing up at him and asking the unspoken question. He looked unsure. She just nodded lightly again, leaning close enough to nuzzle her nose with his. He kept a distance between their bodies, still holding her hands, and stopped just short of her lips so she could back out if she changed her mind. Instead, she paused for a moment and shyly closed the distance. He felt her freeze up at first - he kissed her lightly but she didn't quite kiss him back. It was butterfly soft. Tender. Quick. It was so delicate that they barely felt it, and yet they felt it everywhere. The whole thing felt sweetly awkward - almost like it was the first time either of them had kissed anyone. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. That simple, overdue goodnight kiss was like an unspoken promise between them. They had always found that, when it mattered, they never needed words anyway – not really. They promised that they were not unfixable like she'd said, that they were both going to fight like hell to do what all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't - put each other back together again.

He pulled away. She opened her half-lidded eyes and kissed a light "thank you" on his cheek, her hair falling over her face and sweeping lightly across his skin. He ran his thumb over her fingers one last time, stepping away. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said softly, and walked out into the rain.

**Please review!**


	24. Scar Tissue

**Thanks to asha710, whose suggestion helped me expand something I was already putting in this chapter. You're still getting ahead of the narrative, Ash! Lol**

**References: Rufus (Ghost Network)**

Stuvac was almost over and an atmosphere of panic had settled over the campus. To get away from the Academy, Olivia and her friends would often go and have study sessions together on the roof of Peter's bar. They tested each other with flashcards to study, but it didn't take long for Peter to turn this into a sick, twisted game for his amusement.

"OK, Kent, you're next."

"Oh, Lord have mercy…" Kent mumbled, his head in his hands.

Peter chuckled, and Olivia felt him shake against her with the sound of it. She was sitting on a banana lounge between Peter's knees with his arms wrapped around her and her back flat against his chest. Things had gotten much easier for them in the two weeks since their fight – they'd both made a huge effort to be open and honest about how comfortable they felt with each other, taking little steps to get back to where they were. Olivia's bruises were a lot better by now, which made a huge difference to her self-confidence, too.

"Peter, why are you making us play this game? It's got to be the most ineffective way to study," said Olivia.

"What? Testing you all so whenever someone gets a question wrong they have to drink a Red Russian? That's the _best_ way to study," argued Peter. "Plus its fun for me to watch you all squirm under my power," he added with a sly grin.

"How is this effective?" asked Amy. "We're too drunk to remember the answers half the time."

"It's Pavlovian classical conditioning," said Charlie, remembering from his psychology lectures. "If you learn to associate getting the questions wrong with throwing up in a toilet the next day, you'll start to work harder at getting them right. Failure is painful."

"Exactly," mumbled Kent, who'd already had too many shots that night. "I can't believe you've never played this before, Olivia. Where the hell did you go to college again?"

"Northwestern," she said defensively. "I still think this is juvenile. Only a guy would have created this system."

"Oh, admit it, you love this. It's way more fun than sitting with a textbook all by yourself."

"Sitting with a textbook by myself has worked just fine for me in every exam I've ever done, thank you very much."

"We get it, you're a nerd," Peter joked just to tease her, and he earned a nudge in his ribs for doing so. Peter groaned in mock-agony and picked up a flashcard to question Kent. "How does the Sage Dictionary of Criminology define Criminal Justice?"

"Criminal Justice…is…"

"It's got to be verbatim or it doesn't count."

Charlie laughed. "Shit, he doesn't know."

"No, I've got it, I've got it," insisted Kent. "Criminal Justice is the process through which the state…responds to behaviour that it deems unacceptable. Criminal justice is delivered through a series of stages…detection and investigation, prosecution, trial…sentence, appeal, and punishment. These processes and the agencies which carry them out are referred to collectively as the _criminal justice system_. Boom!"

They all looked to Peter for the verdict. He shrugged. "Sorry, guys, he's right. Charlie's turn," Peter said with an evil grin.

"Awwww, hell."

"Mwa ha ha ha!" Peter cackled as he flicked through the flashcards with an evil grin.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't go picking a hard one," whined Charlie.

"Be nice," Olivia said, slapping Peter playfully. She stole the cards from him and picked one out at random, handing it to Peter before settling back into his arms. He read the card. "What is a Psychological Autopsy and what are the four main reasons why they are largely impossible and/or ineffective for profiling modern terrorists?"

Charlie sent an _are-you-kidding-me_ look to Olivia for picking that question. "I'm so sorry," she cringed apologetically.

Charlie shook his head and bit the bullet. "Lester and David define a psychological autopsy as a method of offender profiling which involves reconstructing the life of the offender from birth on, with a particular focus on recent events, stressors, mood, statements, and behaviours, by means of interviews with all of the significant others, friends, and colleagues in the offender's life." He wracked his brain. "Nah, I don't know answer to the second part."

"Too bad, Charlie. You've got to drink a Russian," said Peter, grinning ear to ear.

"No, please, not again."

"Those are the rules if you get a question wrong."

"But I got it half right!"

"Doesn't count. Scull, I say!"

Charlie groaned in response as he held his pounding head in his hands. The group cheered him on teasingly until he finally took a painful gulp and choked a little. "Ugh, I hate you all," he mumbled.

Peter poured a couple more shots. "OK, guys, you know the rules. Everyone drinks until somebody gets the rest of the question right. Amy, you're next."

"Profiling terrorists…I dunno…What's the question again?"

"Fail! Drink up!"

She moaned and took a shot. "You're enjoying this way too much, Peter."

"I just like to see you guys sweat," he smirked. "You're turn, Livia."

"Psych profiles for terrorists are basically impossible and ineffective because…damn it…"

"Scull! Scull! Scull!" they chanted.

"No, no, no, no, no, I swear I know this," she said rapidly, pushing away the shot Peter was shoving in her face as he tickled her with his other hand. "Peter, stop!" she laughed. He obliged with a cheeky smirk and gave her a quick, playful kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, Liv, either you two get a room or answer the damn question."

"Alright, alright. Well…terrorists are too culturally diverse for us to create a contextually applicable profile for any of them…and they have too many different styles and methods…nope, I forgot the rest."

"Aaaaah! Only half-right. Drink up!"

She slapped Peter again and took a shot, letting it burn bitterly down to her stomach. She nodded to Kent. "You're turn."

"Damn….terrorists can't be profiled because…Nope." He stood, exasperated. "I give up! This roof is high enough to jump off, right?"

"Don't be so dramatic. We're all in this together. Our exams start in less than a week and we need to study. Either do the job right or don't do it at all."

"Can I not do it at all? Is that a real option?"

"Be a good boy and have your shot, Kent."

He sat back down and cringed. "Fine, but I'm never playing this game again!" He had a drink and gagged, turning green. "I better get straight A's after all this."

"What was the rest of the answer?" Olivia asked.

Peter flipped the card over. "Proven terrorists are difficult to catch alive due to the dangerous and often suicidal nature of their methods, and even when they are captured it's almost impossible to get them to cooperate or submit to a psychological evaluation because of their fierce ideological or religious fanaticism."

"Well, I never would have thought of that."

Peter laughed. "You guys look really sick."

Amy death-stared him. "You did this to us so you don't get to make any comments, Bishop."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Woah, don't bite my head off! I come in peace!"

"Peter's right, though - now's probably a good time to go home. We'll have to get the bus back."

"You guys go ahead," said Olivia. "I'll come back in a little while."

As the others headed back down the stairs and closed the door to the rooftop, Olivia lay back in Peter's arms and snuggled against him, closing her eyes. He wrapped one arm around her waist a little tighter, the other releasing her to trail his fingers up and down her arm. She welcomed the touch, sliding her hand up behind her to the back of his neck, playing with the soft hairs at the tip of his spine.

"I'll be so glad when this is over," she murmured.

"What?" 

"The exams. Harris' trial. Everything." He nodded in response, but she could feel the disappointment in his silence. She twisted her head back and pulled his face towards her so he looked into her eyes. "Hey…" she said, kissing him sweetly. "I never said I'd be glad about losing you."

"Who said you're losing me, Livia?"

"Well it's going to be hard - you know, when I leave."

"We don't know if you're leaving yet," he said softly. "You could be asked to stay here for Secondary Training." She went quiet and he held her close. "What is it, Livia?"

She sighed. "There's something I need to tell you."

"OK."

"I already know I'm leaving Quantico, Peter. If I fail the course -"

"You won't."

"We don't know that. The exams are designed so that even with all the cut-offs they've had all year, only half of the remaining students will pass. If I fail I'll probably go back to college at Northwestern - try to use my credits to start working on a law degree or something. I've always said I'd like to be a military prosecutor if this didn't work out. And Peter…even if I don't fail I'm not going to be doing Secondary."

"What do you mean?"

"Broyles says if I pass there's an internship with my name on it in this new department he's opening up."

"Where?" 

"Boston."

The word made his brain reel. "Wow," he managed to say. And then he said nothing.

The sense of loss in his voice made her ache. "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, Peter," she tried to explain. "This could set up my entire career. The fact that I'm testifying against Harris in a couple of weeks is already a huge setback for me. I need all the help I can get if I'm going to work around the politics of this job -"

"I understand."

She felt his fists clench in frustration at her sides and she sighed, looking out over the town she'd come to call home. "Peter…I'm so sorry, but I will _never_ get this chance again -"

"It's OK," he said quickly. He shook his head slightly and let out a deep breath, the air warm against her neck. "I know how hard you've worked for something like this. You deserve it. I want what's best for you, Olivia - whatever that means."

"I know." She closed her eyes so she could memorise his smell and warmth while she still had the chance. "Peter, I love this place – so, so much. And I really care about you…But I can't stay."

"We could make it work, Olivia. We could try."

"I don't know, Peter. When Lucas and I were in this situation we chose to stay together and it only made things a million times harder."

"But I'm not him. This is us." He sighed against her. "Look, this is up to you, Olivia. If you want to stop seeing me when you leave that's your decision. But I'm in this for the long haul if you are."

"I'm just not sure what to do. All I know is that I want to stay here for as long as possible, with you and the others. I'll think about what you said, but right now I just want us to appreciate what time we have left together – in case we decide to end this."

He nodded silently. He knew that whatever happened he'd offer to go with her, but he couldn't say that now. They were still trying to pick up the pieces of their relationship, and he didn't want to scare her off.

But damn him if he was ever going to let her go without a fight. He brought a hand to her cheek and pulled her close. She twisted around in his lap so she could straddle his thighs while they kissed softly. Since their fight they'd both tried to be honest enough with each to take risks but still say when it got too much. Olivia was far less jumpy than she used to be, and Peter was less scared of approaching her. But even so they had limited themselves to a few sweet kisses here and there rather than making out.

But tonight was different. They felt the need to make the most of their time together, to prove that they trusted each other enough to take things just a little further. Peter tentatively traced her bottom lip with his tongue until she allowed him access. She tensed a little at first, but she got used to the feel of it again. Olivia moved her palms over the broad plain of his chest, one of them stopping over his heart. It was pounding. She smirked a little into the kiss and his hands squeezed her hips. Everything felt almost like it used to. They were quickly rediscovering that natural rhythm that was distinctly theirs, that synchronisation of breath and skin.

Her hands slipped under his shirt and she felt his muscles shudder as they moved from his stomach to his back. He responded immediately, his hands moving suddenly up under her hoodie and undershirt to caress the bare skin of her belly. She bit his lip in surprise, whimpering softly. The pain was sharp and unexpected, but he didn't mind. Just feeling her reaction to what he was doing made him so close to losing control.

His hands moved down to bunch the hem of her hoodie in his fists, but he didn't dare remove it. She felt him hesitate for a while and, realising he was scared of her reaction, reached between them to pry his hands from it. She pulled it over her head herself, watching as his hungry but confused eyes glazed over with something else.

Everything came to a sudden halt. He just stared at her. She blinked, concerned and puzzled. Then she looked down at herself. She was wearing her black undershirt, which wasn't particularly revealing or anything, but it left the still-fading bruises and faint scratch marks on her upper chest and arms exposed. For a moment there she was so lost in Peter that she'd completely forgotten she still had bruises at all. He'd never seen this much of her body since the attack, and she expected the worst kind of reaction from him. The threat of tears felt like knives in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. Flushing a shameful red, she slid off of him and sat on the side of the lounge, scrambling for her hoodie.

"No." He grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her. "It's OK."

"But -"

"I don't care," he said in earnest, tilting her face to him so he could look into her eyes. "We can stop if you want to. I'm still a little nervous with you but I'm starting to get better at overcoming it, so the rest is up to you. I mean it, Livia."

She shook her head. "I don't trust a lot of people. But I trust you. I want to try."

"You're sure?"

She nodded, and that was all the inspiration he needed. She expected him to start kissing her again but instead he started peeling off his own shirt. Her breath caught a little at the sight of his chest. She hadn't seen him without a shirt since they went swimming on Akim's farm – and her memory did little justice to the reality of seeing him in the flesh. He looked up and smirked as he saw her staring at him, her mouth slightly open, but resisted the urge to tease her. He beckoned her closer and she complied. He took her hand in his and laid her fingers against a faint scar along his ribs. "I got this when I fell out of a tree when I was a kid," he said, before moving her hand to a set of old puncture marks on his forearm. "Our dog Rufus bit me here. We had to put him down. I loved that dog." He twisted his body and raised her fingers to run them along his bare back, which was dotted with little specks of white scarring. "When I was 19 I fell off my motorbike. These are from when I got little bits of gravel and broken glass in my back. The ER doctors had to dig them out piece by piece, like shrapnel."

He turned back around and kissed her deeply, but earnestly. "I know you're still ashamed of your marks right now, Livia - which makes sense because you're still getting better. But I promise, one day you'll wake up and those bruises will be gone and whatever's left you won't be ashamed of anymore - because they're the marks of someone who fought." He took her hand and kissed the fresh scars on her palm from where she smashed glass to blind Harris. "To be honest, I was scared of seeing your body like this – of being reminded of how he hurt you. I'm not proud. But Livia, something's changed. We're getting better. I know it because when I see these marks now, I don't see him anymore. I just see you." He sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense, am I?"

They sat in silence for a moment while she tried to absorb what he'd said. He brushed some of her wind-tousled hair out of her face, pulling her in for a kiss. He moved his lips along her jaw line and down her neck until she was breathless again. He stopped and took his time to lightly kiss each bruise and scratch mark that marred her pale skin, from her wrists all the way to her chest, wishing he could erase it all. When he was sure he hadn't left a single mark un-kissed, he pulled her between his knees again, resting her against his bare chest.

A short time later, she fell asleep as he stroked her hair. He knew he'd have to wake her up and drive her home so she wouldn't get in trouble, but he just wanted to lie with her a little longer. He wanted to fool himself into believing that she wasn't leaving him in a few weeks, even if that pipe dream only lasted for a little while.

**Please leave a review!**


	25. MuckUp Day

**OK, I need to explain Muck-Up Day here. I don't know if it's done in countries other than Australia, but over here it's a tradition in schools where on the last day of classes the students who are in the leaving class (i.e. Seniors) basically get to run amuck and play pranks on other students and teachers. It's a lot of fun but has led to vandalism and injury in the past so a lot of schools have banned them now : (**

Charlie groaned as Olivia came over to his bed and nudged him awake. "Whaddya want?" he mumbled.

"Time to get up, Charlie."

"But Mum, I don't wanna go to school!" he whined.

She laughed. "Come on, you baby, it's our last exam today."

"Last one. Bout bloody time." He yawned and pulled himself out of bed.

The exams felt like they'd lasted for forever and a day. On top of the academic exams the students had to do physical tests, medical tests, and panel interviews with an admissions board designed to scare you to hell and back. Olivia's panel was the day before, and it was beyond awful. Having a table of eight senior FBI agents questioning you on your every move at the Academy and your personal life is intimidating to say the least, but she tried to stay as confident as possible in justifying her answers to their deliberately condescending questions. The PT tests had also been brutal – hours of endurance, strength and flexibility testing designed to torture every recruit until they cried and begged for their mums. The last two weeks had been harrowing physically and psychologically. When they weren't doing tests, the recruits were always either studying like crazy or drowning their sorrows at the Whitehorse. Either way, they felt like they were doomed.

But today it was all going to be over. Their last exam was at 9am. It was Jacobsen's Forensic Psych paper. Three hours of essays and short answer questions. What a bloody nightmare. But it was the last one. And then it would all be over and Olivia could focus her worries on waiting for the results and testifying at Harris' trial. She and Charlie got up early that morning to study and go over last-minute notes. As they were working, her phone buzzed with a message.

"_Hey, Livia. Just wanted 2 say gud luck 4 2day. Last test then u can relax and hang out with ur awesome boyfriend ; ) Hang in there kiddo. P"_

She smiled before texting back. _"Thanx, will c u soon. Btw, u give urself too much credit, lol. O"_

Charlie and Olivia continued to study and drink copious amounts of coffee to keep themselves awake and alert. Eventually they reached a point where their time was running out, so they took one last glance at their textbooks before heading off to Kennedy Hall for their last test of the course.

"You're gonna be fine," Charlie whispered as they took their seats.

"I know," she said confidently. "And so are you."

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, we'll see."

When Jacobsen announced their five minutes of reading time had begun, Olivia turned the page and read the first question.

"_Federal Bureau of Investigation Basic Training Course; Junior Federal Agents Program; Forensic Psychology Final Exam; _

_Short Answer Question One: Explain why offender profiling has been largely abandoned as a science and give a detailed example of an offender type in which this practice of criminal investigation is impossible, explaining why. 8 marks"_

Terrorists. She grinned to herself. Thank goodness for Peter's study games and Red-Russian-inspired shenanigans. Olivia started doing the maths in her head. She had to write 120 marks worth of answers in three hours, which meant she had about one and a half minutes to spend on each mark. So she had twelve minutes to answer question one. She made a mental note of that and continued reading through the paper, where the topics tested covered practically everything they'd studied, from hostage negotiation to the complexities of interrogation to serial killers.

"_Short Answer Question Four: What is Secondary Victimisation? Give an example of a case type in which it often occurs, explaining the criminal justice system's role in Secondary Victimisation. 5 marks" _

Her heart sank a little and she swallowed. She knew the answer. She would become an expert on this next week, and not in a good way. Secondary Victimisation is when a victim of a crime is further traumatised and stigmatised through their reporting of the offence and their participation in the court process – common in sexual assault cases. Already Olivia had experienced this. Having to give her statement again and again at the hospital was traumatic in itself, and having to face Harris next week in court would only be worse. She shook her head and tried to shove out her thoughts of dread. She had a three hour exam to write – that was enough to worry about for now.

Jacobsen announced that they could start writing their responses, and suddenly the room filled with the sounds of scratching pens and flipping pages. Olivia wrote frantically until her hand cramped up, but there was no time to stop. She just cracked her knuckles and kept on writing. 94 minutes left…68 minutes…45…22…3…

"Pens down!" Jacobsen declared.

Olivia let her pen slip from her sore hand and fall to the hardwood floor of the hall. It made a soft clanging sound. She stretched and shook her hand, laughing lightly with relief along with the other students.

Jacobsen had the other examiners gather up all the papers. "Alright, everyone!" he said in a booming voice. "I'm sure you're glad that you've finished Paper One of your Forensic Psychology finals. We'll have you leave the exam room for a 20 minute break before we call you back in to begin Paper Two."

The whole room went dead silent and Olivia's stomach clenched. There was a Paper Two?

Jacobsen's deadpan face broke into a huge smile and he laughed. "Nah, I'm just messing with you. You're all dismissed. Congratulations."

After they laughed off the initial shock of his prank, they all cheered and ran out the door in a massive stampede. Olivia found Charlie and gave him a massive hug.

"We did it!" he exclaimed, laughing and twirling her around. "Come on, Liv, we have to go get ready for Muck-Up Day!"

By now it was just after midday, and Muck-Up Day was officially in motion. The teachers had decided to let them have it as long as they kept it outdoors, no criminal offences occurred and they cleaned up afterwards. The Secondary Training students were still only half-way through their course, so it was only the first years who got to celebrate, but the older recruits would probably join in the fun anyway. Olivia and Charlie went to get changed into old clothes they could afford to get dirty and gathered all the prank-playing equipment they'd need for the rest of the day.

When they were prepared for all sorts of mischief, they headed down to the grounds of the Academy to a massive pirate flag someone had planted on the top of Little Hill. For hours the first years did idiotic but hilariously fun things to make each other forget that they were actually scared to death of their exam results. It started with water pistol fights. It was a lot like when they'd played paintball in PT to learn tactical team techniques, but this was a lot less serious. Some of them chose to put fish oil or coke in their water pistols to make whoever they targeted all sticky and smelly.

This later progressed to a rotten food fight. Some of the local store owners had been saving old, squishy fruits and vegetables for the students to buy in bulk just for this day. Soon enough, they were all running around the grounds pegging food at each other. Suddenly two strong arms wrapped around Olivia and spun her around. She wriggled trying to escape the man's grasp as he continued to swing her and they collapsed onto the grass together.

"Peter!"

"Hey hey, sweetheart! How's Muck-Up Day going?"

She looked down at herself and laughed. She was covered in fish oil, sugary soft drink, flour and squishy old food. "Uhh, I think my shirt is a good representation of how this day is going."

"Looks like you've been having fun," he said, pulling half a tomato from out of her hair. "Never a dull day at The Academy, right?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What, I'm not allowed to come and visit my girlfriend?"

"Peter."

"Alright, alright. I'm here mostly to advertise the bar's end of exam party tonight. We've got this DJ coming out from DC, one of Akim's friends. Cheap drinks. Open all night. You guys should come."

She nodded and gave him a quick kiss. He smirked as he pulled away. "You taste like old peaches."

She laughed. "So what's all this advertising you speak of? You don't look like you're doing much."

"Well, I'm not doing much, but they are," he said, pointing behind her to three cows wearing advertising signs on their sides. Already recruits were ducking underneath them and using the poor things as shields in their water fights. "Akim borrowed a couple from the farm next door. He donates them to Muck-Up Day every year in exchange for free advertising on campus."

"Which one's Gene?"

"Uh, number four."

Olivia looked over to the three cows again, seeing that on their sides were painted bright blue numbers: 1, 2, and 4. She glanced around, a little concerned. "Where's cow number three?"

He laughed. "There isn't one. The numbers are just to make the teachers supervising all this freak out."

She looked up to see some security guys and lecturers on phones, scanning the grounds frantically for the missing cow. She laughed and smacked him on the back of the head. "You're mean."

"Oh whatever, it's all in good fun. You know fun's not bad Olivia. There's actually more to life than exams and textbooks, believe it or not."

"Wow. Aren't I lucky I have a cultured young man of the world as a boyfriend to teach me these things?"

"You know, you should talk about me like that more often instead of hitting me so much," he teased, but all he got was another light smack on the back of the head. He gave her a cheeky smile. "You've got food all over you," he chuckled picking little pieces off and leaning in to kiss her face clean.

As she was kissing him, she reached around for an old mango and squished it against the side of his head. He leapt back slightly, surprised. "Oh, you're in for it," he growled. He straddled her and started tickling her mercilessly as she squirmed beneath him.

"Stop!" she laughed, gasping for air. "Please!"

"Hmm…I don't know…"

"I won't do it again, I promise. Stop, I can't breathe. Please!"

He finally released her. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." He leaned down to give her another kiss just as Charlie ran over.

"Man, this is nuts. Quantico's gone all Baghdad and shit," he said, panting and covered in stains. "I just took a pear to the face!"

"Be grateful it wasn't a pineapple."

"Yeah, but then some punk-ass Second Year stole my shoes! That just ain't right, man." He finally caught his breath from all the running. "By the way, Brandon's stuck in a tree."

"What do you mean Brandon's stuck in a tree?"

"Some Second Years ran after us and chased him up there. Now he won't come down because their circling it and throwing mangoes at him until he concedes."

"Oh that I have to see," said Peter, getting up and dragging Olivia with him. They followed Charlie over and sure enough, there was Brandon, a few metres up while Second Years pegged fruit at him.

"Please, have mercy!" squealed Brandon as he got hit by a mouldy nectarine.

Olivia turned to Peter. "So do we help him out or do we leave him there?"

"Let's let him stew for a few minutes. Then we can get him out. He's too hilarious to speed up the process just yet."

"Hey guys," yelled Astrid as she and the others ran over. "Have you seen Brandon?"

"He's in that tree."

"No way! We're gonna get him out, right?"

"Eventually."

"Well, how long's he been up there?"

"Ten minutes, maybe," said Charlie.

"Come on, enough of this," said Olivia, filling up her water pistol. "I'm going in."

"Me too," said Charlie. "You guy's coming?"

They all gathered fruit and other weapons, painted war stripes on each other's faces and crept around through the bushes near Brandon's tree. When the time was right, they attacked the evil gang of Second Years from behind and started a massive battle between the trees. Eventually they managed to distract the other team enough for Brandon to be able to leap down from the tree before exacting his revenge. Once the Second Years were chased off the campus grounds, they all caught their breath and Olivia looked at Peter, bursting into laughter.

"What?"

"You're covered in food. You look ridiculous."

"But I look good enough to eat, right? You know you want to." He winked. She rolled her eyes. "Besides," he said with a gleam in his eye. "You're looking quite edible yourself."

He started to approach her with tickling hands and she ran until he tackled her playfully back onto the grass. They wrestled in the leaves a little but before long they broke into kisses and lay back together on the grass watching the clouds as the rest of the world raged in an absurd chaos around them.

"I can't believe it went by so fast," she said.

"Yeah, it's crazy how that happens, huh? You never realise how quickly good things slip away from you."

"I just feel weird. I mean, I've spent so much time on this campus just studying or in class. I can't think of a single time where I just laid back on the grass like this and forgot that there was anything to worry about. I feel like I haven't really taken the time to stop and appreciate all this. I'm really going to miss this place, I think."

He brought her into his arms and nudged her cheek with his nose. "I don't mean to pressure you for an answer or anything, but have you given any thought to us staying together after you leave?"

"I've kind of had exams for the last week and a half, Peter. And Harris' trial is next week. I really haven't thought about -"

"You're right, sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

She bit her lip and buried her face in his shirt. "Listen, about the trial…"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to be there?"

"I'll be where you want me to be."

"I think you deserve to know what happened if you want to here it. But it'll be hard for you, and I don't want to cause you pain. I'm already causing you more pain than I can deal with."

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. But I'd be happy to support you while you and the other girls testify, if that's what you want."

"I'd like you to be there, but Peter…it's going to hurt you. I know it will. You've never even seen Harris before, and when you do…I need you to promise me that you won't lose it and try to hurt him again. I don't think I could take seeing you so angry again. Peter, I need you to promise that you'll be there to support me, not to kill him. OK?"

Peter gritted his teeth and pulled her a little closer. "OK. I promise."

She turned his face to hers and gave him a sweet, gentle kiss. "Look, things are good today. If anything, Muck-Up Day's making me feel like you have to appreciate good things while you have them. Let's just forget about Harris, forget about me finishing the course – just let ourselves be happy for a change. Just for today."

"OK," he whispered, pulling her in for a kiss. They lay back in a comfortably intimate silence as they watched the clouds move in and out of shapes above them, forgetting even for a moment that soon their whole world was about to fall away beneath their feet.

**Please review! Coming up next: Harris's trial **


	26. The Tyrant

**References: Salman Kohl (Safe & Ability)**

The students had a couple of weeks off before graduation, and most had decided to stay in Quantico with their friends. But Harris' trial had sent chills through the whole campus. Because the FBI wanted to keep everything covert, Harris was being given a quick, private, group prosecution within the bureau as opposed to a mainstream court case for every girl, but it was better than nothing. All the evidence like medical reports and written statements had already been processed during their exams, so now they just needed to testify and then it would all be over. Olivia's friends had agreed to go and support her, and promised that after the trial they'd all go camping in the woods to cheer her up.

"How many of you are testifying?" Astrid asked Olivia as they entered the courthouse. It was the first day of Harris' trial. 9 am. The courtroom smelt like old mahogany and sweat.

"Apart from me, one other assault victim. Two rape victims. Twelve others have come forward with harassment claims. Well, those were the numbers initially. A few dropped out from testifying – they don't want to have to face Harris again. Most of them are Second Years or past students. He's taught at this school for six years. I guess it makes sense that he hurt so many people."

"And you were the first one to report it?" Astrid asked. Olivia nodded in response, looking away. Astrid sighed and gave her a hug before they found a place to sit – Olivia was between Peter and Charlie.

When Harris was first brought in, the crowded room went dead silent. Olivia felt nauseous. He was wearing sunglasses to cover his stitched-up eyes, but his other facial scars could still be seen. He was always a monster to her, but now he actually looked like one. It was horrifying. She hadn't expected seeing Harris again to be this hard. Memories flooded her brain all at once and she scrunched her eyes shut, wincing.

Peter felt her squeeze his hand. "That's him?" he whispered through gritted teeth. She nodded, still not opening her eyes. He pulled her close and she buried her face in his jacket, shivering like a scared child. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to run from his seat and kill Harris on the spot, but he remembered his promise to Olivia. She pulled away from Peter and put on a brave face, still holding his hand. What scared her the most – what terrified both of them in that moment – was the mutual realisation that the worst was yet to come.

* * *

They went through all the girls' testimonies, one by one. Broyles fought for each of them relentlessly, while Harris' lawyer, Salman Kohl, made it his mission to wear them all down. After a few days of watching the case, it was finally Olivia's turn to testify. She was sitting on a bench outside the courtroom, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. Peter sat down next to her and tried to hand her a coffee. She shook her head. He made her take it anyway. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"No," she whispered.

That stunned him. No matter how bad things got, she'd usually say she was fine.

"Olivia…"

She started shaking her head, looking down. "Peter, I…"

He took her hand and gripped it tight. She didn't have to say anything – he knew she was scared. "Olivia, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do, Peter. I can't live the rest of my life knowing that I ran away from this. If I don't testify and they let him go…I can't let this happen to another girl. I can't."

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her. "I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do," he whispered.

* * *

As Olivia sat in the witness box, she tried to look anywhere but at Harris. His face was unspeakably disfigured with the scars she caused. She could have sworn he was staring at her through his sunglasses. He arrogantly smirked a little, as if somehow he knew that he was scaring her.

_He can't see me_, she reminded herself frantically. _He's not staring at me. He can't see me._

Her palms were sweaty, but her throat was dry. She desperately searched for Peter's face in the crowd. He was already trembling in anxiety and anger, but in his eyes there was reassurance. Broyles began asking her to describe Harris' initial harassment and why she didn't report it. One thing that had been made very clear in the previous testimonies was how Harris always ensured that his victims had a lot to lose. She explained about him threatening Charlie, and she saw how Charlie's mouth fell open in shock and guilt. He would never have asked her to stay quiet to protect him, but that was the kind of girl she was.

Broyles eventually asked her about the assault. Having to even think it made her sick to her stomach, but she knew Broyles was just doing his job. She started recounting, but kept it as general as possible. He apologetically pushed for details. She reluctantly explained everything blow by blow. She'd barely begun when she noticed Peter was really shaking, his hands clenched. When she mentioned Harris first hitting her, he turned white. When she talked about him dragging her into the office, he turned green. When she described how he'd tried to force her into oral sex, he turned dark red and stood up. She thought he was going to beat Harris to death, but instead he turned his face away from her and charged out the door.

Shocked, she quickly asked Broyles and Judge Van Horn if they could stop for a few minutes and ran after Peter. She found him outside, pacing furiously. She called out to him. He ignored her. She approached him and gripped his shoulders, forcing him to stop. "Peter, what -"

"I can't do this, Olivia. I wish I was strong enough a man to sit in the same room as Harris without killing him, but I'm not."

"Peter -"

"I knew it was bad. But you describing all the little details up there…It's a lot worse than what I imagined in my head, Olivia. It's too much. I can't be here. I'm sorry." He started step away from her.

"You bastard," she spat, starting to cry. "You promised me."

"No, what I promised you was that I wouldn't kill him."

"You're bringing up technicalities? Really? I should have known to expect this from you, Peter. You always run, whenever things get the slightest bit difficult. You've literally gone to the ends of the earth to run from your family, your friends -"

"Listen, Olivia, you can call me a coward, you can call me what you want, but I can't be anywhere near that son of a bitch. And that's on me – I know that. But you have no idea how hard it is for me to listen -"

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

"DON'T!" she screamed. "You are the one who has no idea! You think this is hard for you? Try being the one doing the talking in there. Try being the one who it actually _happened_ _to_. Fuck, Peter - you're not the only one who wants him dead! The only reason he's not is because that glass I smashed happened to hit his eyes instead of his throat. And I still blame myself, because I should have done it, I should have killed him. And I know that rationally he is not responsible for all the bad things in the world, but he is responsible for some of them. I had the chance and I didn't take it, just like with my stepfather, and now I have to face him. Peter, there are girls sitting in that courtroom who didn't get away like I did - girls he actually raped. And you're standing here all pitiful telling me _I_ have no idea how hard it is? It's insulting to them and to me. I resent it. And I fucking hate you."

He stood still, his head hung in shame. He shrugged hopelessly. "What do you want me to say, Olivia?"

She scoffed bitterly, tears streaking down her face. "Don't bother. I don't care anymore," she said. "Either walk away or don't, but I've got somewhere I need to be." She turned on her heels and started back to the courtroom. It broke her heart when she didn't hear him follow her.

"Liv, are you alright?" Charlie asked as she entered the room.

"I'm fine." She looked away, wiping her face.

He pulled on her arm gently. "Livvy, don't lie to me. What happ-"

"I'm fine," she snapped, breaking from him and heading back up to the witness box.

Her breath was shaky as she sat, furious adrenaline raging through her still. Broyles resumed the questioning. "Miss Dunham, the last thing you described was how you managed to briefly break free from the accused after he attempted forced oral penetration, is that correct?"

She tried to focus, but all she saw was Peter's empty seat in the crowd. "Yes," she managed to say.

"What happened next, Miss Dunham?"

"I …" She couldn't get her words out. Frustrated tears began to well up in her eyes again.

"Miss Dunham?"

There was a creak at the back of the courtroom. The door cracked open and Peter slid back inside. Her heart clenched. He came back. He sent her an intense look of apology and support as he found his seat. She knew what he was trying to tell her: he wasn't going to leave again. He knew she could do this. It was going to be OK.

"Miss Dunham, are you alright?" Broyles asked.

"Yes," she said. "Everything's fine." Then she continued her story.

The first thing she did when it was over was run into Peter's arms and let him hold her tightly to his chest as if he was guarding her with his life. They were both crying and apologising, but all was forgotten soon enough. The testimony had been hell, but it was over now.

* * *

The next day, it was Harris' turn to testify. They didn't have to watch it, but Olivia felt it was important to face him. When he took the stand, the courtroom's reaction could only be described as chaos. Some of the girls started to cry, finding that the rush of memories was just too much. Some people flew into rages, shouting obscenities. Others whispered about his scars. Judge Van Horn eventually got everyone to stay quiet long enough for Broyles and Kohl to question Harris on each of the girls. Every time, Harris would argue that the girl was lying or she was asking for it. Everyone had immense respect for Broyles in his cross-examinations – it took guts to stand up for what was right against your own friend.

He finally questioned Harris on Olivia's case. "Agent Harris, against Miss Olivia Grace Dunham you have been charged with two counts of sexual harassment, one count of physical assault, one count of indecent sexual assault and one count of attempted rape. Do you wish to amend your plea of not guilty on any one of these matters?"

"Absolutely not," he said smugly. Again, Olivia could swear he was staring at her. Her body tensed but she held her head high, attempting to convince the others and herself that she was fine.

"Miss Dunham claims that the first incident of sexual harassment occurred when she stayed after class to discuss an assignment. Is it true that she approached you to discuss the essay?"

"Initially, yes. But if anything, she was the one who harassed me. She was failing the class – offered to win my favour by sleeping with me. I refused, obviously, but assigned her extra credit work so she could make up her marks. But she just got angry and she left."

"If she harassed you, then why didn't you report the incident?" Broyles asked.

"I knew how easily she could turn it around. It was my word against hers."

"And the second alleged incident in the firing range?"

"That was right after she was injured in a car accident. I was merely asking how she was recovering. If she interpreted any of that concern as an inappropriate interest then I'm sorry but that certainly wasn't my intention."

"Miss Dunham claimed that you physically overstepped your professional boundaries and that you threatened her and her roommate when she wanted to report the harassment."

"No, I only carried out the physical demonstrations required for the lesson and nothing more. And no such conversation ever occurred."

"Were you marking her essays deliberately harshly as she claims?"

"No. Miss Dunham certainly had potential, but the Academy's a stressful place and most girls just can't handle the pressure. I refused to change her marks and eventually she tried to move out of my class, but that didn't work out."

"How did your relationship with Miss Dunham change following these events?"

"I maintained a professional distance, but she was very bitter towards me. There's something you've got to understand about this girl. She didn't like it when she didn't get things her way - she knew the effect she had on men and used it to manipulate them. We keep close tabs on the students, and I noticed how even while she had a boyfriend in the marines, she flirted shamelessly with two classmates in particular: John Scott and her roommate Charlie Francis. I'd always suspected she and her roommate were sleeping together. I hear she's shacking up with a bartender now. And she somehow managed to get you, Agent Broyles, to lift her grades and take her off my extra credit duty – God only knows how she persuaded you to do that."

"It is not _my_ professionalism that is in question here," Broyles growled. "Judge Van Horn, I ask that Agent Harris' suggestions about my client's sexual integrity are stricken from the record as they are utterly irrelevant to whether or not a crime occurred in any of these charges."

"Agreed," said Van Horn. "The jury will disregard Agent Harris' answer. Agent Broyles, you may continue your questioning."

Olivia started to cry. She bit down on her sleeves to muffle her sobs. The last thing she wanted was for Harris to hear her so humiliated. She knew he was going to portray her as a slut but actually hearing it was sickening. She prayed like hell that Peter didn't believe him. It seemed like he read her mind because he brought her close. "Shhh…" he whispered. "He's full of shit. I know he is. Don't listen to him." But she wriggled out of his grasp, wrapping her arms around herself and putting on her best poker face, even though furious tears were seeping out of her eyes. He could tell she was trying to be strong and didn't push her.

"Agent Harris, explain in your own words what occurred on the night the alleged assault took place," Broyles continued.

"I was in the library, working late. I was leaving when I happened to walk by Miss Dunham. I merely reminded her not to study too late and make sure she got some rest. That car accident really put her behind, and it was obvious she was stressed to a point of desperation. She started telling me how scared she was of failing Law. She offered again to sleep with me in exchange for the exam paper so she could cheat. I told her it was ridiculous and we should both just go home."

"Your blood work from the hospital shows an alarming level of alcohol in your system. Don't you think it was irresponsible to speak to a student while intoxicated?"

"Well, I had been drinking outside of school hours, but yes, it was irresponsible. And it's something I really regret, because it gave her a certain level of physical power over me she wouldn't have otherwise."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I was pretty out of it. Before I even realised what she was doing she was all over me. It seemed like the more I tried to push her off the more aggressive she'd get. I had no choice but to get violent with her."

"In what way did you 'get violent'?"

"I grabbed her, shoved her back. I didn't hit her or anything – she's lying about that."

"Her medical report shows severe bruising and abrasions consistent with severe beating. How do you explain that?"

"I can't. After I was blinded I was locked in the office for a long time, during which she could have hurt herself running down the stairs or something, I don't know. All I know is I wasn't responsible for those other injuries. All I did was grab her and shove her back, then she took something glass and smashed it against my face."

Broyles pulled out an evidence bag filled with bloody glass fragments and addressed the jury. "Note that Agent Harris is referring to Evidence Exhibit E, pieces of a broken glass vase." He turned back to Harris. "Where did she get the vase from?"

"The table in the office."

"Why were you in the office?"

"She pulled me in there."

"A small, 23 year old girl was able to drag a man of your size down an aisle into an office? That seems unlikely, don't you think?"

"Listen, _Phillip_, a lot of it was a blur, you know? Like you said, I was drunk and the trauma of having my eyes slashed kind of scrambled my memory a bit. So if you don't mind, I'd wish you quit hassling me over little details when all you need to know is that Olivia Dunham is a lying little slut. She came on to me, and she deserved whatever she had coming. She wanted me to-"

Olivia snapped. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME I WANTED IT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she screamed.

"Order!" shouted Van Horn.

"Don't try and rewrite history, Dunham," Harris teased. "We both know how you lie."

"YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD TO HER AND I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!" Peter roared.

"You must be the boyfriend," Harris sneered. "What's wrong? Jealous?"

"Order, I said!"

"You're sick, Harris," Peter snapped. "I can't believe you get off on this – seeing girls crying, begging for you to stop -"

"Oh you're girlfriend sure knows how to beg," he taunted with a sleazy smile. "But I'm sure you already know that."

Peter lunged towards him, only to be held back by security guards as he flailed.

"ORDER IN THIS COURTROOM!" Van Horn shouted. "Agent Harris, you are only to speak in testimony. Mr Bishop, you and Miss Dunham either take your seats in quiet or leave the room for the duration of Agent Harris' questioning."

Peter, exasperated, turned to Olivia, softening as he saw how broken she looked even with a brave face on. "Please get me out of here," she whispered to him. He nodded and took her hand, walking through the crowd of understanding faces – there's wasn't the first outburst that had occurred during the case. As soon as they were finally alone they let themselves collapse into each others arms, holding each other impossibly tight. Her nails scratched him through his shirt as she sobbed into the familiar warmth of his chest. He seethed into her hair, his eyes watering, while he whispered oaths in her ear. "He's never gonna hurt you again. You'll never have to see him, hear his voice, whatever. If he doesn't go to jail I'll kill him with my own two hands. Whatever it takes. I'll die before he touches you. I promise, Olivia…"

Her only reply was the vibration he felt when her shoulders shook against him, and the sound of her whimpering into his skin. Peter knew that 99% of the time, Olivia was unbreakable - but when she did fall apart, she fell damn hard. He knew that she was strong, and too damn stubborn to let a guy like Harris ruin her life, but in moments like this, part of him doubted that she would ever be happy again. "Peter," she whimpered. "He said that I…It's not true…It wasn't my fault…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know you didn't do any of that. He's a liar."

After a few minutes, she pulled away, wiping her face in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," she said hastily. "I shouldn't have let myself lose it like that. We should just go home."

She started to walk off and Peter gently pulled her back. "No, Olivia. No more of that "I'm fine" talk from you. Not today." He ran a hand over his head. "That was the last testimony. It could be days now before the jury and judge decide on a sentence. Do you want to be here for it anyway?"

She thought about it, and he could see her mask crumbling just a little. "No," she finally said. "There's too much hate in that room. Too many scared women and furious men. And Harris…" She failed to fight the wince that came to her face. "No. I don't ever want to go back in there."

He brought a hand to her cheek and gave her a slow, passionate kiss. They'd been through hell the last week – they needed to salvage whatever comfort in each other they could. "Let's go home," he said.

She nodded. He offered her his arm and she took it, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked down the steps of the courthouse. That simple gesture made them feel that despite all the pain, maybe – just maybe – there was hope for them yet. And for now, that was enough.

**That was a really tough chapter to write. I need some reviews to make me happy again! Please? *cue puppy dog eyes***


	27. Embers

**A huge Thank You to asha710 who helped me bounce ideas around on the last chapter – it was an enormous help : )**

**References: Wallens Ridge (Ability)**

The whole campus thought it would take days of deliberation before the jury decided whether Harris was guilty. It only ended up taking them five hours, and then Van Horn decided on the appropriate sentencing. As soon as Broyles found out the judge's verdict, he called a huge assembly together to announce it. Olivia and her friends sat anxiously in the murmuring audience as Broyles approached the lectern of Kennedy Hall.

"I want to thank you all for coming," he began. "And for showing immense support to those who were affected by the tragic events that have befallen this campus, unbeknownst to too many of us. Before I announce the result of the trial, I would like all of us to once again commend everyone who responded to out initial appeal for information, in particular the young women who testified in court."

As soon as he said that, the entire audience stood and applauded all the girls' courage. Charlie gave Olivia a little nudge and a sweet smile. She smiled thinly back, still nervous about finding out the jury's verdict. Even so, it felt good to have the entire student body of her college supporting her and the others.

"I am pleased to announce that our efforts to bring former agent Harris to justice were successful," Broyles continued. "He was found guilty of two rapes, one attempted rape, one indecent assault, two physical assaults, and eight charges of sexual harassment."

A huge relief was lifted off Olivia's shoulders. She could tell just from his list that Harris had been convicted of some of her charges, though not all. "Furthermore," Broyles said. "For these crimes Harris will spend seventeen years at Wallens Ridge State Prison, with the possibility of parole arising after fifteen years. However, once he is released, the Bureau will keep a close eye on him as a serial offender for the rest of his life."

Olivia's head spun. That was a good result – better than what they expected since Harris was FBI and everything – but what surprised her more was the choice of prison. It was notoriously violent, far removed from the high-security federal prison he was expected to be sent to. She knew what criminals did to ex-cops in prisons like that. She knew what they were going to do to him that first night…the second… The very thought of it made her stomach clench. A part of her couldn't help but feel like nobody, maybe even Harris, deserved to live like that for upwards of fifteen years, even if he deserved it.

Then came the relief. It was over. Her part in bringing that man to justice was done. Yes, he was still out there, but he wasn't anywhere he could touch her. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Yes, it was over – but even in the catharsis there was pain. She fought to keep herself from crying. Charlie hung an arm around her shoulder, knowing that it had shaken her up.

Broyles cleared his throat to speak again, his tone even more serious than it was initially. "There's something else I'd like to say before you're all dismissed. While Harris has been given the punishment he deserves, all of us are in some way also to blame for these crimes. As members of the FBI Training Academy, all of us are aware of the importance of reporting crime when we see it. In your classes we teach you about how sex crimes are the least reported crimes in our society. We all know this, and _still_ we failed to protect the women of this school. By not reporting incidents we had heard about, or not expressing our suspicions, we allowed Harris to teach at this school for six years too long. I'm ashamed even of myself for my role in this."

The whole hall was dead silent. The sincerity and purpose that weighed down his voice was riveting. "That being said," Broyles continued. "As I stand up here today I could not be more _proud_ to be a teacher at this school. The sheer number of young women who responded to the appeal against Harris despite their fears was staggering. Every one of these students is a testament to the strength and resilience we hope to instil in you in your time here. Also, in a time of great need, the rest of the campus pulled together in immense support, and for me it was overwhelming to see."

"We cannot undo the damage that has been done here," he said. "But we can do everything possible to learn from this mistake and ensure that nothing like this ever happens on this campus again. We must never forget our errors of judgement, or the consequences of this man's actions. But more importantly, I don't want a single one of you to forget what these girls sacrificed and endured to bring what Harris was doing into the light. You must never forget what happened here, and neither will I - because at the very least, we owe them that."

When Broyles dismissed them, Olivia went straight over to the Whitehorse. Peter stopped working as soon as he saw her.

"Olivia, what happened?" he asked with tender urgency.

"Can we talk?"

He nodded and let her out the back somewhere. She told him what Broyles had said; all the while he smoothed hair out of her face as she looked down.

"You seem upset," he said.

"I don't know what I feel. I feel nothing, I guess."

"Not knowing how you feel isn't the same as feeling nothing, Livia."

She sighed, leaning into his hand as it cupped her cheek. "You know, I thought that after everything…when Harris was finally sentenced I'd feel happy. But I don't. I just…I feel drained."

"That's to be expected, Livia. The trial was a huge ordeal for you. But Livia, one day this'll be one of those things that you're gonna look back on and say "Yeah, I beat that too". And that's the kind of closure you'd never have been able to achieve if you'd stayed quiet and he was still out there hurting people. That day might not be today, but it'll come. I promise."

She looked up and gave him a soft, simple kiss. "Thank you, Peter."

He grinned, and gave her another kiss back. "Let's all go camping like we promised you."

"Peter, I don't know…"

"No, enough, Olivia. You're just going to keep feeling like crap if you stay here. You love camping. And it's you're second last week in Quantico with all your friends. Come on, it'll be fun." He nudged her a bit and gave her a smile she couldn't say no to.

"OK," she conceded. "We'll go."

A couple of days later, Peter took Olivia and their friends to a campground on the outskirts of town. They set up their tents, but they still had a few hours before the sun set. They all changed and headed down to a nearby lake to swim. They approached the water, finding that a few other campers were already there, and started into the water. Charlie stood on the edge of the lake as his friends began to swim.

"Come on, Charlie!" called Olivia, just before Peter tried to dunk her.

"Is it shallow enough to stand where you are?" he asked, wading in slowly.

"Yeah, man," Peter replied. "Why?"

"Nothing."

"Charlie, what's up?" Olivia asked, knowing he was holding something back.

"I can't swim."

Kent started laughing and Astrid splashed him, scowling. "How can you not know how to swim?" he teased. "Everybody does."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. San Diego. I'm from New York – we don't have real beaches and the harbour's always freezing. Hardly anyone knows how to swim in Brooklyn. I just never had the need to learn."

"Do you want us to teach you?" asked Olivia, swimming over to him.

"Nah, don't worry about it, I can stand."

"It's easy," said Brandon. "Besides, you need to pass a swimming test in the Secondary Training finals."

"Brandon, I don't even know if I passed these finals yet."

"Come on, Charlie," said Peter. "It's a handy skill to have anyway. Could save your life, you know."

Charlie sighed and gave in. They started by teaching him how to float on his back, but Kent kept trying to sabotage him by poking his stomach so he'd sink. After a while he could float and paddle a bit, but he still couldn't make it very far without having to stand. Eventually a few of them started climbing up the rock cliffs surrounding the lake so they could do some cliff diving. Amy and Charlie weren't up to it, so they stayed in the water below while the others climbed 40 feet upwards. Brandon looked down and turned white. "No way, man. I can't jump this high."

"Are you sure you're an FBI student?" joked Peter. "What if you have to jump off a building when you're chasing a suspect or something? Just jump already!"

"I'm only a technician! I won't be doing any chasing or cool Spiderman stuff," he said, sighing. "I think I'm going to climb back down now."

"Brandon!" Charlie shouted from the water while practising paddling in circles. "What happened? You chicken out?"

"I didn't see you attempt it!"

"I can't swim, what's you're excuse?" Charlie teased, but he got in response was embarrassed mumbling from Brandon as he hobbled down the rocks.

Meanwhile, at the top of the cliff, Peter looked between Olivia and Kent. "Who's going first?"

"I will," Olivia said without hesitation.

"Seriously?" Peter asked.

"Why so shocked? I've done worse. Besides, we checked how deep the water is and it's fine."

Peter looked down warily. "If you say so."

Kent groaned. "Well if you two are just going to stand up here and talk about it forever, I'll go first." He ran, screaming like crazy and threw himself in a forward somersault off the cliff. Peter and Olivia leaned over the edge watching him go all the way down in what seemed like an eternal freefall before he hit the water in a splash they could only assume was painful. "The man's insane!" Peter exclaimed.

Olivia gulped. "OK, that actually looked scary."

"What, you don't want to do it anymore?"

"No, I can do it," she said, but there was a softness in her voice.

"Awwwww, I think she's having doubts!" Peter teased, poking and tickling her, all the while pushing her a little closer to the edge.

"No, Peter," she gasped, halfway between a laugh and a scream. "No, no, no, no, Peter I don't want to anymore, stop -"

He tickled her some more but used his other hand to pull her away from the edge where it was safe. "Are you sure? Coz you said earlier it wasn't a problem. Go on, then, jump!"

"You first."

"Oh no, sweetheart. You said you'd go first so now you have to do it. A promise is a promise. If you don't go soon I'm pushing you."

"Peter -"

He picked her up and she laughed and screamed, wriggling in his arms. "Put me down!"

"Not the best choice of words, Livia. It's an awful long way to fall," he reminded her with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pretended to drop her and she gasped, hitting him. "Don't do that! You scared the hell out of me!"

"So jump already!"

"Fine, fine, I'll jump."

"You promise?"

"I promise. But then you have to come in straight after me."

"Deal," he said, sealing the agreement with a cheeky grin and a quick kiss. "Now jump before I change my mind."

He set her down and she took a deep breath before leaping off the edge, letting out a small scream as she fell all 40 feet. She hit the water and lost her sense of balance before she finally figured out which way is up and swam to the surface. She gasped for air and looked up. "You're turn, Bishop."

"Awww, hell," he groaned. She swam out of his way and he ran and did a massive bomb jump into the water. They all swam until it started to get dark, then they went and got some firewood. Soon enough, they were all eating around a campfire and talking about what was going to happen the next week. They were getting their results in a few days, then they had the Graduation ceremony. None of them could believe that in less than a week they were probably all going to be separated across the country, but they all agreed to stay in touch, whatever happened.

Peter felt kind of odd about the whole thing. It seemed like he was on the losing end of this experience. The rest of them were separating, but at least they had training or careers to hope for. He on the other hand, didn't even go to the Academy. He'd lived his whole young-adult life as a nomad, completely rudderless. Olivia was the only thing in his life remotely resembling a home. In many ways she was all he had, really. And he was losing her.

As the night grew on, the others went off to their tents. Olivia was sharing with Astrid and Peter was sharing with Charlie, but they both wanted to hang by the fire for a bit before sneaking back to bed. Before long, everyone else was fast asleep. Relieved that they were finally alone, Olivia lay by the fire and dragged Peter down so he lay beside her and their bodies faced each other. At first they just rested silently, both thinking the same thing - their time was running out. Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in to kiss her softly. Her nails lightly scratched at his shirt, pulling him deeper as he wound his fingers through her still-damp hair. When the need for air got too much they broke apart. She rested forehead against his chest and he could feel her shivering against him.

"Are you cold?" he whispered, running a hand up and down her arm and back for friction.

"A little. The fire's dying."

He leaned over and poked it a bit, adding some more fuel before settling back down with her, admiring how her skin glowed in the amber light. "Thank you for bringing me here," she said softly. "I won't forget it."

He just nodded. She's been speaking like this a lot lately – more compliments than usual, more verbal gratitude… He suspected that it was because they were on borrowed time. He wished that they'd both had the guts to make their moves sooner, that John was never part of the equation, that Harris had never existed and that Lucas had never broken her heart like he did and made her so wary of potential boyfriends. He wished they had met under different circumstances, when things were easier and she smiled more. They'd only been together for two months but it seemed like they'd been to hell and back in that tiny space of time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised they'd never really had a damn chance.

She chuckled and nudged her nose with his, breaking him from his thoughts. "You look pensive."

He chuckled back. "Yeah, I'm just thinking about this girl I know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah. She's insanely smart. Tough. Maybe just a little bit scary. Doesn't smile as much as she should and she works way too hard, but I'm working on that. She's staggeringly beautiful. And she has cool card tricks."

"Sounds awesome."

"Yep. And I was just thinking how crazy it is that…" He adopted his best Humphrey Bogart voice. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walked into mine."

She laughed. "Casablanca?"

"You've seen it?"

"Only the good bits. I skipped the rest."

"You _skipped_ through Casablanca?"

"What? I found it boring," she countered defensively.

"It's _Casablanca_! It's a cinematic masterpiece."

"Well, I thought it was overrated."

He rolled his eyes. "Gosh, woman," he groaned. "You'll be the death of me, I swear. You're lucky I love you."

It wasn't until her sleepy eyes went wide that he realised he'd said it out loud.

Shit.

It had just slipped out. It was just natural, like he'd been saying it forever. She turned her face towards the night sky, not sure what to say. "Hey," he whispered, thumbing her hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…I mean, I did, but I didn't…Shit," he mumbled.

She still couldn't look at him. He saw tears in beginning to form in her eyes. He tried to start over. "Livia," he said softly. "I meant what I said. I've known it for a while – before Harris, before everything. That just wasn't the way I would have liked to have told you."

She stared at her hands as they fidgeted anxiously on her stomach. "Peter -"

"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted her, though his tone was earnest. "I just…if this all falls apart…Livia, I just needed you to know, OK?"

A single tear slipped down her cheek. His thumb wiped it from her face as he kissed her softly, finding her tensing slightly against him. He pulled away and tucked some hair behind her ear. "I freaked you out, didn't I?"

Those frustrated tears refused to stop, no matter how much she fought them. She somehow finally found control of herself as he waited patiently for her response. "Peter…We've been dating for two months and you just told me you loved me. That would freak me out at the best of times, but…I'm leaving Quantico in a week. This can't…" She couldn't get her words out and tossed a little in frustration, gritting her teeth and wiping her face furiously. There was another huge silence.

"I'm _so_ sorry," she finally said, barely above a whisper. She always knew it would hurt him when she left, but having him say that he loved her out loud made her certain that this would break him. And it was all because of her.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Livia. We could be happy, I know it. I understand that it's a little hard for you to believe because life's been really hard for you, but this could actually work out. I know that letting people that far in scares you, and I get it. But Livia, have you ever looked past that fear and considered even for a moment that we might actually go somewhere? If we even just went long-distance while you were in Boston… I know it seems like the only option is breaking up once you go, but I've got to believe there's a better way, Livia. I'm just asking you to think about it, OK?"

She was already 90% sure of what her answer would be, but she couldn't tell him that – not tonight. So she agreed to think about it and gave him a passionate, tearful kiss. When they finally parted ways to go to their tents, she lay awake in tears for what felt like hours. She was scared of what he was asking for – it all seemed like too much too soon. But she also couldn't stand the thought that she was about to break Peter Bishop's heart. He was wrong – maybe there wasn't a better way. If there was, she couldn't find it, no matter how hard she'd tried.

**Please Review! They make me update sooner : ) **


	28. Judgement Day

**Lines from Pilot, Same Old Story and A New Day in the Old Town are used. **

Freezing cold water hit Charlie's face. He jerked awake in his now wet bed and stared frustrated at Olivia, who stood at his bedside with an empty glass in her hand.

"Get up," she said simply.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You're a heavy sleeper. And these were slipped under our door five minutes ago," she added, holding up two big envelopes with their names on them. "But if you don't want to read them, by all means go back to bed."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "Are those our results?"

"Should be. Come on." They sat at their kitchen table, flipping the envelopes over in their hands. They could hear people in the surrounding rooms screaming in elation, or crying at their failure, or calling family back home to say how they went. Charlie sighed, slamming his letter down on the table.

"I can't do it!" he exclaimed. "I can't read it."

"You'll have to sometime."

"You go first."

She fumbled with the letter in her hands but hesitated. "We'll do it together."

"You read mine and I read yours?"

"OK. But don't you dare lie to me about what it says."

"Nah, that wouldn't be fair."

"Alright, then. You ready?" she asked.

"Actually I'm shitting myself."

She laughed. "Good to know I'm not the only one. Come on, let's just do it."

They swapped the letters and braced themselves. "OK. One…two…three!"

They ripped apart their envelopes and scanned the messages. Olivia flicked her eyes up to study Charlie's face as he read her results. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "What does it say?"

He smiled broadly. "You passed, Liv."

She closed her eyes and exhaled her relief, laughing awkwardly. "Thank God!"

"There's something else in here. It says you've got a meeting with Broyles scheduled later this morning to discuss your internship – looks like he meant what he said earlier about taking you on."

"So I'm going to Boston? Wow," she breathed. "Do you want to hear yours?"

He gulped. "Eugh…let's get it over with."

She scanned the letter again, her smile fading and jaw dropping. "Oh my…"

"What? What is it?"

"Charlie…" she began softly. "You didn't get into Secondary."

Charlie's face fell. He put his head in his hands. "Are you sure?"

She nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry. That's what it says." After a moment, a tiny smile she couldn't contain started to creep over her face. "But it also says something about this internship…" She shrugged, playfully blasé. "Nah, it's probably nothing."

"GIMME!" Charlie seized the letter from her hands and read through it quickly. "Liv, you're evil for playing that trick on me but you're not going to believe this. They're offering me a placement in Boston."

"In the Federal Building like me?"

"Yeah! At least that's one good friend I'm not losing this week. I'm so glad, Liv."

"Me too. At least this way we won't be alone for our scary-as-hell internships. We can meet up for lunchbreaks, get coffee before work, it'll be great."

"I know – and it's close to New York. Sonya was freaking out that I'd be sent to Texas or something ridiculous. Man, I can't wait to call her, she'll be so happy."

"Which department wants you? Broyles hasn't even told me what he's signed me up for yet."

He read a little further down, surprised. "Huh. The CAC"

"The Crimes Against Children Unit?"

"Yeah. Says here they want me as a trainee in the Boston office's CARD Team – Child Abduction Rapid Deployment. It says here that they handle _'immediate crisis response dealing with non-family child abductions in addition to long-term cases such as investigating child prostitution and/or trafficking operations within organised crime circles.'_ I've got a meeting with Jacobsen this morning, apparently – he used to work there so he can answer my questions, I guess."

"Wow."

"Yeah - wow. You know, I've got to tell you, I never would have picked myself for this. I always thought I'd end up in Counter-Terrorism or Drugs or something. I dunno, I guess it's just not what I expected."

"Me neither," she said honestly. "But come to think of it, I think it might be kind of perfect."

"Really? Like, with the kids and everything?"

"Don't fool yourself, Charlie. It's a tough job. You're dealing with ransoms, hostage negotiations, raids on child brothels…always racing against the clock to get these kids back to their families. You might goof around with me and the others, but I know how seriously you take your career and how relentless you can be. And as much as you love all the door-kicking demos we do in PT, I think this would also make great use of your…softer side."

"My softer side?" he repeated sceptically.

"You're empathetic, with good protective instincts. Kids who've been through that kind of hell need someone they immediately know they can trust, and I certainly found that to be the case when I met you. To be honest, I think you'd be bloody good at this."

"Yeah, sure, Liv," he said uncertainly.

"I mean it. I know it's not quite what you wanted, but who knows, you might fall in love with the CAC. And if not, then you can always move across into CT or even the DEA later on."

"That's true."

He let out a shaky breath and folded his letter up delicately. He was going to frame it or something – it meant so much to him. Olivia noticed his face fall a little.

"Charlie? What is it? You can tell me."

He smiled weakly. "Nothing, I just bet your Dad's looking down on you somewhere feeling damn proud of you. I lost my Dad, too, you know."

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly. He'd never told her that before. While Charlie was trustworthy, it took him a while to open up about things this personal.

"I was sixteen. He was a cop shot on the job during a convenience store robbery. Back home he's an all-time hero. My brothers and I went straight out of high school into Brooklyn P.D., trying to live up to his legacy. I don't think we ever could, but…I dunno, I guess I just wish he could see us now, you know? Sean's leads a Critical Response Team and Marcus is in the Gang Crime Unit, and now I'm...I'm going to be an _FBI agent_. I just wish he was here, that's all."

"Oh, Charlie", she whispered, giving him a huge hug. "He'd be so proud. And so am I."

"I'm proud of you, too." He pulled back, smiling again. "I can't believe this is happening, Livvy."

There was a frantic rapping sound against their door and they opened it, still in their pyjamas, to find a bouncing Astrid on the other side.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. Her bright, energetic smile radiated through the frizzy tendrils of her hair and lit up the room. "Did you guys get your results?"

"Yeah, we're both interning in Boston. You?"

"Congratulations! I got into Secondary Forensics!"

"That's great!" Olivia said, hugging her.

"I just talked to Amy," Astrid said. "She's doing Secondary here in Quantico with Kent. And Brandon got offered TWO internships."

"TWO?" Charlie and Olivia exclaimed in unison.

"I know, right? The guy's a wicked computer genius. Anyway, he's got to choose between Seattle and D.C."

"So we all passed?"

"Looks that way, yeah."

"Well thank God for that, right?"

Olivia's phone rang and she went inside to answer it. Before long Rachael could be heard squealing into the phone as Marilyn congratulated Olivia across the distance. It was all a little bit surreal but somehow telling her family made it seem like it was actually happening. And that felt BEYOND awesome.

Charlie called Sonya, his brothers and his Mum to tell them all the good news and then he and Olivia went to meet up with classmates and share results before their meetings. She briefly called Peter only to find that he was swamped at the bar because of the tradition that everyone who failed got free drinks. She wanted to tell him in person anyway, so they arranged to meet after his shift.

When Olivia later went to Broyles' meeting, she had no idea what to expect from him. He hadn't even told her what this internship was, but she'd take whatever she could get. When she entered his office, she was surprised to find him with a red-haired woman at his side. "Good morning, Dunham. Congratulations on you results. You must be very proud."

"Thank you, sir, I am."

"This is Nina Sharp," he said, gesturing to the woman in the room. "She's the deputy CEO of Massive Dynamic."

Olivia was stunned. She'd never met somebody that important before. "It's a pleasure," said Nina, shaking her hand.

"Same to you," Olivia responded. "Though, I'm a little curious as to what you do for the FBI."

"Massive Dynamic has a close relationship with government agencies in helping update intelligence, weaponry and security technologies as well as consult on crimes of a…scientifically-advanced nature," Nina explained.

"Such crimes are precisely what we will be investigating in Boston," Broyles continued. "We think you have the perfect ambition and resilience for this kind of work. You have a good sense of integrity, and your academic results reflect that. We're impressed."

"Who's we?"

"Fringe Division."

"I can't say I've ever heard of it," Olivia confessed.

"We're a covert branch of the Counter-Terrorism Department. We exist because it's become clear in recent years that the world's major crime threat is no longer just simple terrorism."

"_Simple_ terrorism?"

"Suffice to say that we have reached the point where science and technology have advanced at such an exponential rate for so long, it may be way beyond our ability to regulate and control them," Nina elaborated. "Instead of merely using bombs or taking hostages, terrorists now have the latest pseudo-science at their disposal - things like mind control, teleportation, astral projection, invisibility, genetic mutation, re-animation..."

"Excuse me? Sir, if I may?"

"Go ahead, Dunham."

"Forgive me, but this is all a little hard to believe."

Broyles nodded, pulling out a file and spreading its sheets across his desk. "Most of what I'm about to show you has not been made public. John Thompson, normal kid. Went missing back in '98. Reappeared last month half way around the world, hadn't aged a day. In the past few months, 46 other children who went missing that same year turn up. Same story." He showed her another picture. "This man. A patient in Lisbon who woke up after years in a coma. Began writing, just numbers. They turn out to be exact real time coordinates of our Carrier Battle Groups in the Pacific. Intel that's classified above Top Secret."

He looked to her confused face before continuing. "We've been tracking cases like these for years. They're not isolated incidents. They're calling these events "The Pattern." As if someone out there is experimenting, only the whole world is their lab."

Olivia's mind reeled. _What the hell was going on here?_ She stared at the photos. "How is this even possible?" she asked under her breath.

"If you don't want this internship I can send you to another department in Boston. But frankly, Dunham, you will never get an opportunity like this ever again, and we don't come across students with such a raw talent as you very often. But I must warn you that the work is unpredictably dangerous, more so than usual FBI work. We lost three agents a couple of months ago in a chemical attack that made their skin melt from the inside out – no exaggeration. It doesn't happen often but it does happen."

"You should know what you're getting into, Miss Dunham," said Nina.

"That being said, you'll be doing the most important job in this country. Often the threat to our national security is familiar, but sometimes it is far worse – and when it is worse, when the threat is unimaginable that is when we are at the door. As FBI agents it's our responsibility to put our lives on the line so civilians don't have to die this way. If you're going to take on this internship, you need to be sure you can handle that pressure."

Olivia nodded, trying to take it all in, but she felt like a rug was being ripped out from underneath her feet.

"Dunham, are you still interested?"

She didn't even have to think about it. It was her dream job times 1 million. If she was going to be stationed in Boston anyway, how could she turn down a placement like that? "Yes," she said confidently, inspired by the challenge. "Yes, of course." Broyles explained that he and Nina would be in touch, and she was dismissed after being reminded not to discuss this with anyone. All she could say was that she got a Counter Terrorism internship in Boston, nothing more. As she left, she felt like she'd won the lottery twice.

But her euphoria didn't last long. Peter's shift was almost over. She had been pretty sure that she was going to say no to him, but after that meeting, she knew she had to. Her new job was going to be dangerous. After Harris, she knew that if she let him fall deeper in love with her and something happened at work…he'd never recover. She had always felt wary about going long-distance with him like she had with Lucas, but having Broyles remind her of the extreme dangers of her job made her certain. If she cared for him at all, she had to let him go.

She sat outside the Whitehorse for half an hour before she summoned the courage to go inside. His pain was inevitable, but it seemed better to hurt him now so he could suffer less. He took her up to the roof so they could talk. He was really glad to see her, but she could barely look him in the eye.

"What's up, sweetheart?" he asked tenderly as he stroked her cheek. "Did you get your results today?"

"I passed."

"I told you!" he laughed and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so proud of you. That's great."

"Yeah…" she mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back, looking down at her, concerned. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy?"

She nodded and forced a weak smile. "I am, I'm so, so happy, I just…"

"What, Livia?"

"I wasn't sure I was supposed to be happy about this when I was with you."

"Livia, that's ridiculous. I know how long you worked for this - nobody deserves it more than you. We always knew you were leaving, it was just a matter of where to." He took his hands in hers. "So, Boston, huh?"

"Yeah. Boston."

He leaned in and kissed her with a passionate yet tender affection. She found herself tensing against him but pulling him closer at the same time, mentally cursing herself for what she was about to do. He pulled away and rested his forehead gently against hers. Loving the feel of him as he moved to kiss her cheek, she thought this couldn't get any harder. Then he whispered, "Take me with you."

She almost fell apart then. He felt her tremble against him, knowing immediately that he'd gone too far again. "Livia…"

She shook her head, laying a finger against his lips. "Please."

He nodded, agreeing to let her speak, and she moved her finger to trace his jaw. She could barely look him in the eyes. "Peter…I am _so_ sorry," she swore emphatically. "But I think…I think maybe…Peter, I'm sorry…" She couldn't even get her words out, but somehow he knew.

He staggered a little. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" His voice was resolute, like he wasn't even asking a question.

She couldn't lift her eyes from his chest, where her hands lay scratching lightly at his shirt, and she nodded silently.

He seized her hands in his. "No," he said forcefully, though the edges of his voice were breaking. "No, you don't get to do that. There are two of us in this, you don't get to decide."

"Peter…" she whimpered, her eyes filling with tears.

"What did I do to you?" It seemed like he was torn between yelling and begging. "What did I do to make you feel like this because I can try harder, Olivia, I can -"

"It's not your fault."

"I stayed with you. Through everything."

"I know, and I am so grateful -"

"I stayed in this town, Olivia. I could have gone anywhere – I wanted to, but I stayed -"

"I never asked you to do that. I told you I didn't want to be the reason you were here, I told you -"

"Then what the fuck did I do?"

"Nothing! You've been amazing, I just…"

"Just what, Olivia?" He felt his restraint start to fracture when she again fell into silence. "Answer me! If you're going to gut me like this then you owe me an explanation, you owe me that much!"

So she tried. She tried to explain to him about her fears, about the damage Lucas left, how she didn't want to be responsible for him losing the independence he prided himself on, about how everything had always been so hard for them and they would only be making things harder if they stayed together once she moved. She tried to tell him her new job was going to be dangerous, and but no matter what she said, she couldn't convince him.

"Olivia, you and I have been through more together in the past two months than any couple I know has gone through in years. If we can survive Harris, we can survive anything. We can survive long-distance, or with me going with you, or if you were hurt at work -"

"No, if I was hurt it'd kill you, you know that."

"But you're just guessing, Olivia! You don't know that this it's going to be hard in Boston -"

"Why not? It was hard here. A million things fell apart around us even when we were just friends. Face it, Peter, we were doomed from the start. We never had a damn chance, and that's not our fault."

"We can start over in Boston. Remember when after Harris I was scared to touch you and you asked me to just try? Well it's my turn now, Olivia. I know me following you to another state scares the hell out of you, but I'm asking you to _try_. If it doesn't work, I'll be on the first plane to Cape Town or wherever, I promise. I am not a man who begs, but I'm begging you - please, give this a chance."

She shook her head, trying to stop crying. "I can't. It's too much. Peter, I'm scared."

He felt like killing something. He had that kind of pain in him - something so destructive that he wanted to breathe smoke. "How could you do this?" he yelled. "How could you let it get this far if you knew you might leave anyway?"

"Don't put that on me, we both knew this could happen! You knew too, right from the beginning."

"No, this is your fault! You didn't have to do this!"

"Do what? Get a job?"

"No! You didn't have to make it hurt! You could have been any other girl in the bar the night we met, but you had to make me fall in love with you!"

"I never asked for that! You fell for me long before we ever became more than friends, back when I was interested in John, so don't you dare blame me for that!"

"I know you think you're protecting me, but don't you know what you're doing here? Don't you understand what you're taking from me? For God's sake, Olivia! You are the _only thing_ I love! You're the only home I've ever had! I'll always love you, no matter what -"

"No, you can't know that – nobody can. Don't make promises you can't keep."

He was done yelling now. He was done pleading with her. He just had to know. "Did you ever even love me?"

"Peter, please -"

"Yes or no, Olivia?"

"Stop this."

"Damn it, Olivia, tell me the truth!" he demanded. "Did you ever even love me?"

"I don't know!" she sobbed, stunning him into silence. "I care for you, I just…two months, it's too soon to know…Peter…"

He glared at her, his eyes watering and fists clenched at his sides. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?"

"I'm _so_ sorry, Peter…But no."

She may as well have hit him across the face. He gritted his teeth. "Then I haven't got a damn reason to stay here," he spat, and pushing past her, he headed for the door.

**Awww...poor Peter and Olivia...**

**Please Review! Only three chapters to go!**


	29. Graduation

**Sorry if I'm rushing this, guys, but I need to finish this story super soon because I have to go to the US to visit family (I'm Australian). I'm working hard to get it out to you and to not disappoint you in the process! Ps. If you haven't already, please go and check out my latest oneshot, "He Belonged With Me" - I just put it up yesterday and I'd really love to hear what you guys think about it.**

**References: Olivia's Mum's necklace (Over There Part 1)**

**Lyrics are from Wherever You Will Go by The Calling (yet another memorable song of 2002)**

She said no.

Peter had spent a couple of days trying to digest that ugly truth, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't even wrap his head around it. He knew she had her reasons, but none of them seemed good enough for him. She'd told him her new job would be unusually dangerous, but she didn't tell him why. He barely even knew what her new job was. But the fact that it was enough to scare her made him uneasy.

_So lately, been wondering  
Who will be there to take my place  
When I'm gone you'll need love to light the shadows on your face  
If a great wave shall fall upon us all  
Then between the sand and stone could you make it on your own._

He was lying in bed, the radio turning itself on to wake him up, while he tried to shake off last night's hangover. A half-empty glass of scotch was still on his bedside table from last night. Olivia had tried to call him time and time again over the past couple of days but they'd always just end up arguing. She maintained that she was trying to do what was best for both of them, that the timing just wasn't right; the circumstances weren't in their favour from the beginning. He knew she was trying to protect him from something, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe she was right. If her job was really going to be so risky, maybe it would be easier to lose her now than later. But he didn't want to lose her at all.

_If I could, then I would  
I'd go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low,  
__I'd go wherever you will go_

She was leaving tomorrow. He was flying to Cape Town the next day. The first thing he did after she broke up with him was spend the next few hours getting smashed before he booked himself a ticket to the next city on his "Places to see" list. He had a friend of a friend doing some scam contracting over there and he felt if he was going to burn his bridges, South Africa was as good a place as any to start over. He'd always wanted to explore the landscape there as well as the Cape Town nightlife, but it was also considered a dangerous enough place for him to find some shady dealings to get involved in. As much as he hated the idea of slipping back into his criminal, nomadic ways, he knew it would be easy. Without Olivia, there wasn't much inspiring him to do good anymore – no purpose inspiring him to pave a new path and be bigger and better than his past.

_And maybe, I'll find out  
A way to make it back someday  
Towards you, to guide you, through the darkest of your days  
If a great wave shall fall upon us all  
Well then I hope there's someone out there  
who can bring me back to you_

He picked up his clock radio and smashed it against the wall of his bedroom, holding his head in his hands as the song came to an abrupt stop. Getting up, he pulled on some clothes and washed his face. He glanced at his watch. Her graduation ceremony started in twenty minutes. He could still make it, if he could bring himself to go. He'd been grappling with the idea since the breakup. He hated the thought of having to look her in the face again, but at the same time it was all he wanted to do. In the end, he realised it might be the last chance he'd ever have to speak to her. It was her last day in Quantico. He had to go. He had to see her again – just one more time.

He got his coat.

* * *

Olivia and her friends were all dressed up in formal clothes with their gowns and graduation hats over the top. Everyone was ecstatic. They all passed yearbooks to each other through the audience, writing well wishes and making sure friends could stay in contact when they finished. Olivia and Charlie were sitting in the Internship Students section with Brandon, who ended up accepting a computer tech internship with the organised crime office in D.C. The others were all in the Secondary Training Students section. Most of the failed students had left town already. Everyone's families were sitting up the back to support them.

Part of Olivia was on top of the world, but the part that wanted Peter to be there was weighing down her joy. She scanned the crowd a thousand times for his face, but Charlie kept trying to tell her to enjoy her Graduation and that he would show up sooner or later. Soon enough, Broyles began the ceremony, congratulating all the students on passing and giving wise words to prepare them for the future. The students all stood and applauded him in gratitude for his leadership throughout the year – he had been an exceptional course coordinator and had taken on more responsibility than he had to in looking after them, especially during Harris' trial.

After his speech the students were called up to accept their diplomas. Charlie was grinning ear to ear as he walked out onto the stage to receive his – he was so proud of what he'd achieved. When Olivia's name was called, just for a moment, all the hurt she was still feeling left her as she swelled with a proud euphoria. She was now officially a Junior Federal Agent of the FBI, and she was convinced that nothing in the world could possibly surpass the feeling of the Academy's Certificate of Excellence in her hands. But she was wrong. What made that euphoria explode into unprecedented greatness was when, as she descended the stage, she saw Peter standing at the back of the hall, hands in his pockets. She stopped dead in her tracks - then nodded to him in gratitude before she kept going down the steps. Yes, everything felt perfect now, even though it wasn't.

They eventually got through everyone's diplomas and Broyles approached the lectern once again to address the audience on students who had performed particularly well. The Academy had certain awards that were given out at the end of each year to students who had shown particular qualities in their studies, and the names of the winners were engraved along with those of past winners on huge plaques on the walls of Kennedy Hall. Awards were given to a couple of students in the Forensics and Computer Tech programs before he got to the Junior Federal Agents Program. Broyles cleared his throat, his voice as earnest as it always was at times like this. "Every year," he explained. "A student in the Junior Federal Agents program receives the 'J. Edgar Hoover Award for Valour', the highest honour of a first year student. This morning it is my immense honour to present this accolade to an exemplary student who, despite numerous setbacks, has not only excelled in this course, but has shown tremendous bravery at times when it would have been easier to do nothing. This year's award is proudly presented to Junior Federal Agent Olivia Grace Dunham."

Before she even absorbed what she'd heard, her fellow students were standing in applause around her and Charlie was wrapping her in a huge bear hug. Shocked, she went up on stage and sincerely shook Broyles' hand as he gave her a small plaque. "Thank you," she said to him emphatically. This award was the least he had done for her.

But he just smiled and nodded his understanding. "You deserve it, Dunham." As she left him and walked back down the steps back towards her friends, she was smiling wider than she ever had before. She clutched the plaque close to her chest, knowing it was the most important thing she'd ever achieved in her life. As she sat back in her seat, Charlie congratulated her a thousand times over and she traced her fingers over the words engraved in the brass, her heart swelling. She felt unstoppable.

After the ceremony, the students went wild with applause and euphoric cheering. But before long they all had family members come over and congratulate them. Everyone was sharing hugs, taking photos, saying goodbyes and signing yearbooks. Rachael was squealing and bouncing, and Marilyn would barely stop giving her daughter joyful hugs and kisses. "I'm so proud of you, Olive," she said, unclipping her cross from around her neck. "Honey, I want you to have this."

Olivia baulked. "Oh no, Mum, I can't. You love that necklace."

Marilyn shook her head to silence her daughter and placed the cross firmly in Olivia's palm. "It's yours now, Olive. It will keep you safe."

Olivia nodded in gratitude and hugged her mother again before introducing her mother and sister to her friends – some of whom they had already met at the wedding. Olivia also got to meet other peoples' families. Charlie's brothers, Sean and Marcus, were both the spitting image of her friend: humorous and playful as any other NYPD cops, but earnest and kind. She was surprised to see not an ounce of jealousy in their eyes as they celebrated with their now-FBI little brother. Yes, she thought, Charlie definitely had to get that loyalty streak from somewhere.

Before long, two strong hands surprised her from behind by poking her stomach playfully. "Guess who, Liv."

She turned around. "John!" she exclaimed before wrapping her arms around him in a friendly hug. "Thanks for coming! How are you?"

"I'm great. I'm still doing physio since the accident but mostly I'm good as new. I'm continuing Basic Training back here next year."

"That's great. I'm really happy for you, John."

"What about you, though, huh? You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself – getting internships and awards and all that. You overachiever…" he teased. She punched him in the arm, and not lightly, but he laughed anyway. It was just like old times.

"JOHNNYYYYYYY!"

"Oomf!"

Charlie came out of nowhere and barged into John, and before long they were both wrestling in between catching up and teasing each other like always. Absolutely nothing had changed between them despite being apart for months now. Olivia rolled her eyes as they mucked around, sighing. Boys…

She frantically searched the swarming crowd of people for Peter. He hadn't moved from his spot at the back of the hall. He was still, hands in his pockets, watching her. She excused herself from the others and made her way over to him. He tilted his head to the door and she followed him outside where it was a little quieter. They stood and looked at each other for a long time.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here," she finally said.

"Me neither," he admitted.

"But you came. Thank you."

He shrugged.

"Peter," she murmured sympathetically, noticing the shadows under his burdened eyes. "You look terrible."

He smirked. "You should have seen me before I got all dressed up," he replied, gesturing to his dress shirt and pants. "You look beautiful, by the way. I love that dress on you."

She blushed, noticing that this was the same dress she'd worn to his surprise birthday dinner for her, the night they first kissed. Granted, it was the only dress she owned, but the coincidence still made her nostalgic. Mentally she cursed herself for letting him talk to her like he was still her boyfriend, but she let it slide. She tried to change the subject. "Did you hear Charlie got an internship with the CAC? He's going to be in Boston, too."

"Yeah, I heard. You guys are lucky."

"Yeah. We're very grateful."

He smiled wistfully at her. "I'm glad I came, Olivia," he said. "I mean, it wasn't easy, but it was good to see you so happy. It's not something I ever saw often. Not even when you were with me," he added regretfully.

"Oh Peter," she replied. "It might have seemed that way, but it's not true. Our circumstances were harsh but you made me happier than I'd been in a long time. If it weren't for you I never would have made it through everything that happened. I'm sorry if you never saw that."

He nodded and looked around at the other graduating students, before turning his proud but tortured eyes back to her. "Congratulations, Livia. You deserve everything that happened here today."

"Thank you." She paused and sighed. "What are you doing with yourself now?"

"I'm flying to Cape Town the day after tomorrow. Figured I'd see Africa."

"Do you know anyone over there?"

"A friend of a friend. And Akim's brother's in Jo-burg. I'll probably travel a bit before I get any work. What about you? When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Pretty much first thing. Rach and my Mum are staying in town tonight then we're driving back at 10am. Charlie and I have packed everything in our room already, so…"

There was another silence. All he wanted was to touch her. But he knew that was out of the question now. "Livia," he said softly. "Listen, I know you probably have some last hurrah thing with your friends planned, but do you want to come over to my place later? I have the house coz Akim's got the Graduation rush at the bar until morning. I just want to be able to spend some time with you - before you go."

She wanted to. But she baulked. "Peter, I don't know that it's a good idea."

"Neither do I," he admitted. "But it's your last night, Livia. We'll never get this chance again. Please."

She looked over to her friends and family before answering him. She knew he was right, but she was scared of what could happen. They'd probably just end up fighting, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to end her relationship on good terms. After thinking about it just long enough to torture him unintentionally, she nodded. "I told the others I'd meet them for drinks after this, but I'll come by and see you tonight."

"OK. Thank you, Livia."

She just nodded some more, a huge part of her immediately regretting what she'd just agreed to. It was too late to go back now. She needed another subject change. "Do you want to come over and see the others? My family would really like to meet you. Especially Rachael – she wants to see if you're hot," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He smirked, tilting his head. "She can see me from here. She's been watching us this whole time."

She turned her head to find that Rachael was indeed spying on them and chuckled lightly. "Come on," she said. "Would you like to meet them?"

He thought about it. "Usually, I'd say yes. But I don't know if it's really my place now that we've split up and everything. This is your day, Livia. You don't need your sister hassling us or whatever."

"Please, Peter. It'd mean a lot to me."

How could he say no to her? He nodded and walked over with her to meet Rachael and Marilyn. He was pretty good about it all, introducing himself only as a friend of Olivia's – which was what he was now, really. He wasn't sure how much they knew about him and Olivia. Marilyn was impressed by his manners and Rachael was impressed by…well, the usual things. After all, Peter did have a suave, natural charm to him that never went unnoticed by anyone.

He also took the time to say goodbye to each of the other friends in the group – this would be the last time to see them, too. Astrid was especially teary as she farewelled him and reminded him to stay in touch with the rest of them. They invited him out to drinks, but he declined as politely as he could. He had to get ready for South Africa, but to be honest he wasn't quite comfortable hanging with them after what happened with Olivia anyway – after all, they were more her friends than his. They knew he was still in kind of a bad place and let it go, but they all managed to exchange heartfelt goodbyes nonetheless.

Olivia walked him out. "When do you want me to come round?" she asked.

"Whenever you're ready. Take your time – you really should be with your friends tonight."

"You're my friend too, Peter. That doesn't change because I broke up with you."

He nodded. "Thank you – for agreeing to this."

She looked at him soberly. "Don't make me regret it, Peter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said earnestly. Then he left.

**Please review! Two chapters to go!**


	30. Fistful of Sand

**References: Olivia's training rant (Power Hungry), Peter's dodgy accent (Season 2 bloopers)**

Olivia's last hours out with her friends were both joyous and disheartening. Even though they were all staying in touch, it was the last time they would all be together for a long time – maybe ever. When it was time to meet Peter for dinner, she said her final goodbyes to her friends. Astrid was kind enough to drive her over to Peter's place. Olivia was grateful she'd had such a considerate friend like Astrid at the Academy – she was always doing a million favours for everyone and was never concerned with being paid back.

Olivia was still wondering whether this was a good idea when Peter answered her knock at the door. He promptly invited her in and it almost seemed like things were normal – making small talk and subtle jokes. While it was fairly awkward, both of them were making a huge effort to not let it ruin their last meal together.

"This smells amazing…" She grabbed a spoon to taste some of the pasta sauce Peter was stirring and he slapped her hand gently.

"No, no, no!" he protested in a terrible Italian accent, wagging his finger at her. She laughed and he returned to standard American. "This masterpiece is no where near ready."

She leant against the bench top, chuckling to herself. "I never got used to seeing you doing something so domestic."

"Well, I would like to think that domestic isn't really my style," he said, scooping the finished meal into bowls for them. "But in the end a guy's got to eat, right?"

They took their bowls to the kitchen table. "What did you end up doing today after graduation?" he asked.

"We all went out for lunch and then drinks after. Every place in town was packed. I'm surprised Akim didn't make you work tonight."

"I quit," he explained. "I'll be in South Africa in three days. I haven't got the time."

"Africa…" she whispered to herself in awe. "I've never even been overseas before and it seems like you've seen every inch of the world already."

He smirked, swallowing a mouthful of pasta. "Don't worry, sweetheart. There'll be plenty of danger and adventure where you're going."

She smiled thinly as she picked at her food. He realised then that he'd called her 'sweetheart', but he was grateful that she'd let it go. "Are the others still out celebrating?"

"Yeah. They'll probably be there all night."

"I'd be happy to drive you back after dinner so you can hang out with them a little more, or just drop you home."

"Thanks. But we need to talk first. Listen, I know we've broken up, but you'll stay in touch, right?"

"Of course I will, Livia. But it's not enough."

"Well, it's all that I can handle," she confessed regretfully.

He nodded, wanting to salvage anything he could from their friendship, even if their barely-two-month romance was dead. "Do you think I'll ever see you again?"

"What do you think?" she asked softly.

"I would like to think so. But who knows when that'll happen. I mean, you'll be in Boston. I'll be in Jo-berg and Cape Town and wherever else after that. But I would like to see you again one day - under better circumstances."

"I hope we get the chance," she said truthfully. "Give me a call if you're ever in Boston."

"Of course," he replied, reaching to tuck some hair behind her ear. She recoiled just early enough for him to realise he'd overstepped the bounds. He quickly withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it."

Breaking the awful silence, she stood and cleared their empty plates, walking to the sink. One of her hands gripped the countertop for support and the other ran through her hair as she tried to suppress a sigh.

"Livia…"

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she admitted. "What are we doing? I mean we're eating pasta and talking like this isn't a big deal."

He sighed, dejected. "What do you want me to say, Livia? I don't want to fight you anymore."

"But I hurt you. You should hate me."

"I don't. I'm angry, but I'm angry because I love you. I have never felt an ounce of hate for you – not once. If you're really going tonight then you should know that."

"And what do you want to know, Peter?" she asked, leaning back against the bench as he slowly approached her.

"There's only one thing I want to know, Livia," he said, his voice weighted with a new-found edge as he stood toe-to-toe with her. "I want to know _why_."

Her eyes fell closed. "Peter, I've told you why," she whispered.

"No. You've told me all the little things that added up to your choice. But for a long time you were still undecided and I thought I had some kind of chance with you. I want to know what made you _certain_."

"It was the job."

"Because it's dangerous?"

"Yes."

"But we already knew that. You joined the FBI, for fuck's sake -"

"No, Peter. This is worse."

"What do you mean, '_worse_'?"

"Peter…" she began, but she didn't know what to say. Broyles had been giving her reading material on the latest Fringe cases all week – making her read about things she'd never even come across in her worst nightmares. She'd read about the agents they'd lost in the past, too. On the rare occasion that a body had been recovered, it was sent back to the family in a coffin labelled "Remains Un-viewable". That kind of horrific chaos was the last thing she wanted to drag Peter into.

"_What was it, Olivia?_" he practically growled. "What the fuck made you panic and break up with me?"

She swallowed and tried again. "I've been trained for a lot – for everything, it feels like: hostage crises, terror campaigns, suicide bombers, chemical attacks…but what I'm just getting into now…I'm not allowed to talk about it, but -"

"Fuck the rules," he said forcefully, standing over her. "Olivia, please…What is it that's got you so scared?"

She lifted a hand to cup the side of his face, her thumb caressing his cheek. "If you meant what you said - about loving me…" she murmured. "Then you've got to stop asking."

"Livia…" he groaned softly, leaning in to close the distance between them.

"No, Peter," she breathed against him, hands pushing against his chest. "We shouldn't."

He shook his head a little and looked away from her, running a hand over his face. "If you're leaving, then you should just leave now. If you stay another minute I'll never let you go, and you clearly don't want that. Just go."

The finality in his words shook her. She knew she had to leave eventually, but now that she was in that moment she couldn't move.

"GO!" he spat at her. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Well, you got it. We broke up. It's over. Now _go_. Get out of here before I -"

She kissed him fiercely then, cutting off the sound of his biting words. At first he was surprised, but it didn't take him long to respond, running his tongue against hers. She fisted his shirt in her hands and pulled him so her back was against the wall, his hands running up and down her sides. She lifted a hand to his face, her fingers playing with the hairs on the tip of his spine as she kissed down his neck. All the heat in his body rushed to one place and he knew he had to get a grip on things before he lost control.

"Livia," he groaned. "Livia, stop." He broke from her so she could look him in the eye. "This isn't what I asked you to come here for."

"I know." She smoothed her hands over his chest in search of his pounding heart. "But like you said this morning: it's our last night and we'll never get this chance again. I know we've never done it before. Ideally I would have waited longer, but considering the circumstances…"

"Livia, are you sure?"

"Are you?" she asked seriously.

He chuckled a little. "No one's ever asked me that before."

"You know this can't happen again, right?"

"I know," he replied dejectedly.

"It's just going to hurt more when I go."

"Maybe it's worth it," he considered. "I mean, it'll hurt like hell – but I can't live the rest of my life knowing I never took my chance to be with you like this. I'm sure if you are."

**Rating goes up for a bit here. Skip if you need to:**

She nodded with a tender certainty, and that was all he needed. He leaned and brushed his lips over hers softly, but it didn't take long for things to heat up again. The way she touched him made him crazy, driving him to a place in his head where he was ruled only by his senses. Her fingertips dragged down his chest until her hands were able to slip beneath his shirt, smirking at the way his hot skin shuddered beneath her palms.

He gripped her hips and hoisted her up so he was pinning her against the wall, the cold plaster a relief against her flushed skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as they continued to kiss, barely stopping for air. Her nails dug into his back as one of his hands went to her knee, pushing her dress up her thigh to expose the bare skin there. She gasped and instinctively bucked against him, and it was only when he groaned at the friction that he realised how fast they were moving. If he didn't stop right that second he'd never be able to, and she deserved more than a fuck against a kitchen wall. He broke the kiss, making her groan, and set her down on land again, the previous plea in her eyes turning to concern.

"Peter, I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Did I do something wro-"

"No, sweetheart. But if we're doing this, then we're doing it right." He took her by the hand and led her to his room. He shut the door behind them, his whole demeanour changing as he reapproached her. Something had shifted between, them – the slowing in pace as they realised the gravity of what they were doing. Peter stepped behind her and brushed her hair away so he could kiss her neck, dragging down the zipper of her dress. She trembled under the heat of his breath as his fingers crept lower, running with tiny steps down the bare skin of her back. She twisted around in his arms and kissed him languidly. Their movements more gentle than before and yet more passionate. Her fingertips abandoned his skin to unbutton his shirt. They pulled it off together and she ran her hands over the planes of his warm skin – making the best possible use of her inherent photographic memory. By the time her hands reached his belt buckle, she was just as out of breath as he was.

Before long he was out down to his boxers and it was her turn now. She trembled as he smoothed the straps of her dress down her shoulders before removing it completely, not used to being so exposed to him. "You're so beautiful, Olivia," he murmured against her lips. He looked her in the eyes before scanning her body, his hands lightly exploring the feel of her before moving to thread his fingers through her long, blond hair - kissing her passionately. Their bare chests flush against each other, she cupped his face in both hands and whispered to him between kisses. "Peter…please…"

Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up and settled them both on the bed. He hovered over her and for the first time she felt small, the weight and scope of his body overshadowing her. She shivered. Seeing this, he stopped and smoothed a hand over the flat surface of her belly. "Relax," he whispered in the low light.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little…"

"Nervous?"

She nodded.

He chuckled. "Me too." It was true. She was the love of his life and he was terrified of not getting this right, the pressure doubled by the fact that this would be his only chance to. He was relieved when she chuckled back and smiled sweetly, pulling him down for a soft kiss.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered again, grinning stupidly. She blushed and averted her eyes to the ceiling, but he cupped her face to bring her back to him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. It's just you and me tonight." She nodded and kissed him again, their hands moving over each other – touching, exploring, pulling gasps and moans from each others' lips – eventually removing the last pieces of material separating them.

She waited patiently as he dug through the bedside drawer for a condom, studying his body in fascination. She shivered again as he settled between her legs, both of them completely naked. Everything was new and different as they touched and tasted each other – a delicious shock. He gasped against her breasts as she grasped him, guiding him to where he was meant to be. He kissed his way back up to her lips, and she moaned into his mouth as he slid into her. He stopped – partly because he was shocked that it was even happening, and partly so they could both absorb the feel of each other. Olivia wrapped herself around him, pulling him deeper as they started a steady pace, breaths hot against each others' skin. The velocity of their movements wasn't rushed or frenzied, but thorough and precise as they committed every sense to memory.

He was convinced that this was perfection. It didn't matter to him in that moment that she'd be gone in the morning. The love he felt for her was joyous and fierce, and the fact that he was now proving that to her wordlessly made his heart swell with a sense of elation as intense as agony.

But then he felt wetness against his shoulder where her face was buried. He stopped, brushing strands of hair from her face. "Livia?"

"Shut up," she whispered, trying to pull him back for a kiss.

"You're crying. Did I hurt you? Are you OK?"

"Forget it. Just don't stop."

"No, Olivia. What did I do?"

"Please," she begged him, peppering kisses down his neck, taking her time at his pulse point. "Please, Peter, I need you."

He nodded in understanding, kissing her deeply. Something snapped deep within him. His own eyes started to water as he tore himself from the kiss, a strangled sound escaping from deep in his throat.

"Livia," he choked. "_Don't go._"

She had to – they both knew that. But the truth was too hard for either of them to hear. They started moving together again, wanting to leave their pain behind and lose themselves in each other. She whimpered into his skin. They clung to each other desperately as they rediscovered the perfect synchronisation that was so uniquely theirs. Her teeth grazed his lower lip in surprise and her nails bit into his back when he picked up the pace, but even the abuse felt good. All he heard was the way her whimpers became moans – he could hear the difference even as he covered her lips with his or neutralised the sounds she made with his own uneven breaths. She began to tighten around him and he knew she was close as she opened her mouth in a gasp. His lips captured hers right before she screamed; swallowing the sound of his name and groaning against her while he followed her over the edge. As they caught their breaths, their deep, affectionate stares into each others' eyes held steady and unwavering.

"I love you," he swore to her. Not knowing what to say, she answered by bringing him down for another kiss.

He rolled over onto his back and took her with him, clutching her tightly to his chest as her hair splayed over her back. It felt perfect, but neither of them could escape the approaching morning light that promised to separate them.

**Back to T rating:**

He pressed a light kiss against her forehead. "Stay."

"Peter…"

"Just for tonight."

He felt her nod against his chest and rubbed gentle circles on her skin until she fell asleep. What happened had been amazing, but it wasn't supposed to happen like that. There wasn't supposed to be so much uncertainty, or dread. His arms embraced her tightly, but she was like a fistful of sand – no matter how hard he tried to hold on to her, he couldn't stop her from slipping away. He eventually fell into a restless sleep.

Before he even opened his eyes in the morning, he could smell her on his pillow. She was still in his arms. The early morning light made her skin glow. He loved that she didn't even know she was beautiful, but she was. His fingertips traced the constellations of freckles on her skin. Feeling himself react as her naked body stirred against him, he knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself much longer. He shrunk away from her, immediately feeling cold but hoping that wherever she was in her dreamscape, she didn't know the difference. He got dressed as he watched her sleep. She lay facing the bed, the sheets pulled to expose a stretch of skin down the trail of her spine. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and it was all he could do to restrain them from tracing the path his eyes had taken.

He didn't know how long he spent sitting and watching her, but eventually she woke up. "Hey," she said, her voice croaky from sleep.

"Hey."

She looked down at her fingers as they fidgeted with the sheets. "Last night was wonderful…"

"But it didn't change your mind."

"No. But I told you last night that it wouldn't." She blinked tears away and sat up, holding the blankets to her chest. "I have to meet my family soon – to drive to Boston." She looked to her clothes on the floor. "Can you close your eyes or something?"

He chuckled darkly, rubbing his tired face. "What, after last night your embarrassed?"

"It's not that. I told you nothing like last night could ever happen again and I meant it. Please, close your eyes."

He complied, and while he wasn't looking, she took the opportunity to scribble him a quick note on his bedside table and leave the bracelet she was wearing with it. When she was done dressing she approached him gently, touching him so he would open his eyes. They were red with bitterly unshed tears. She ran her fingertips around his hairline and over his lips, memorizing every detail of his face.

He sighed. "Do you want a ride back?"

"No, I'll get the bus up the road. I think the longer I spend with you the harder it'll be for both of us."

He nodded, trying to accept that all the agony he'd felt in the past week had lead up to this. "So, that's it then."

"Yeah. That's it." She swallowed. "I need to go. Thank you for everything. Stay safe in South Africa." She leant down to give him a tender kiss on the cheek. She looked at him like she was about to say something - but she didn't.

She headed for the door. He gripped her wrist. "Olivia -"

"Peter, no -"

"Please." He grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her hard and ardently.

She pushed him away. "No, I can't. You know I can't."

"Just one more," he pleaded.

"If we keep saying 'Just one more' I'll never leave. And neither will you."

He hung his head and held it in his hands. He knew she was right. It was too late for them now. "Let's say 'The last one', then."

"Only if you promise that it is 'The last one'."

He nodded gravely, on the brink of collapse. "I promise."

There's nothing as sad as the kiss you know is the last one. He brought his hands to her face and she wound her fingers through his hair as they pulled each other impossibly close, drinking each other in. The kiss was both passionate and delicate. They kept going long after their lungs ran out of air, but eventually the inevitable need for oxygen separated them. They lay their foreheads together, shaky breaths melding. She was the first to pull away completely. "I have to go," she whispered.

He walked with her to the door. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself from crying. "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't follow me. Please."

He nodded. There were no words now. She hesitated at the door. With his eyes he begged her not to go. She left anyway.

The door slammed shut. He could hear her heels tapping away on the other side. For a moment he was frozen in shock, but then he pounded his fist against it in anger, right before he collapsed against it in despair. He trudged back to his bedroom, kicking a piece of furniture or two along the way.

He noticed something on the bedside table. Grasping her bracelet tightly in his hand, his eyes tore through the note she left with it, unable to absorb its message even after reading it a hundred times:

"_I think I love you, too. That's why I started crying last night. _

_I'm sorry I never figured it out until then, and that I never had the guts to say it to your face. _

_Forgive me – for everything, _

_Olivia"_

**Please review! Only one chapter to go!**

**Ps. that was the first sex scene I've ever written in my life, so apologies if it sucked. **


	31. Epilogue: Boston Part 1

**Alas, we have reached the final double chapter of The Academy. Thank you to all of you who stuck with this story to the end, especially those few very loyal reviewers. **

**References: lines from the Pilot, The Dreamscape, Entrada, Power Hungry, and The Arrival**

**FOUR MONTHS LATER:**

"What an enthralling story this is, Peter! But what happened next?"

"Nothing happened. She left," Peter explained, his voice weighted. "She went to Boston and I went to Cape Town, and we've never seen each other since. There, your bedtime story's over. Glad you found it so enjoyable. Now for goodness sake, Walter, go to bed and leave me alone."

A week earlier, Peter had received a phone call in South Africa. He had no idea how St Claire's had managed to track him down. They told him that Walter had a heart attack but he was going to be fine. They explained that because Walter was declared insane and Peter was his next of kin, Peter was responsible for whatever medical decisions were made. He didn't care, but his shady shenanigans in South Africa were getting a bit sticky anyway, so he took it as an excuse to fly back to the States.

Peter only needed to go to St Claire's to do some paperwork signing over Walter's medical responsibility to the hospital, but Walter had begged to see him as soon as he got there. He reluctantly complied as he waited for the paperwork, but speaking to his father again after all these years had been horrible and awkward and made him furious down to the bone. Walter had asked him for a bedtime story, and since he kept hassling Peter about his love life for some reason, Peter thought he'd kill two birds with one stone and tell him the story of how he and Olivia had met at the Academy. Hell, talking about Olivia may have caused him pain but at least it kept them from having to discuss the childhood Walter left him with.

Walter suddenly sat up in his hospital bed and reached out to study Peter, who was pacing impatiently beside him. "May I see something?"

"What are you doing?" Peter yelled, jerking away. "Take your hands OFF ME!"

"Pupils are good. They're good."

Peter continued to pace the room, exasperated. "I'm not here to be your guinea pig, Walter. I'm just waiting for that nurse to bring in the last of your forms for me to sign and then I'm gone."

"Oh. That's terrible news," Walter said, his face falling.

"It's not news, Walter. I've told you a thousand times since I got here."

"What are you going to do now, son? Go back to Australia?"

"_Africa_, Walter. And no. I'm going to drive to Boston."

"To see Olive?"

"For the last time, her name's Olivia."

"Oh. I must have confused her with someone I used to know," said Walter. "Have you had intercourse with her?"

"_What?_"

"Because if you have I hope you took the necessary precautions. I know I wasn't there for you as a teenager so I feel it's important for me to educate you about the importance of using condoms."

"I'm 24 years old, Walter – I'm well aware of all that so you can relax. But thanks for the concern, really," he snapped sarcastically.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, son! I'm sure there were no problems with your performance. You're a strapping young man – a Bishop man! We have quite the stamina in this family. In fact, I remember the night you were conceived, your mother -"

"Do NOT even go there, Walter. And don't you _ever_ say another word about my mother," he spat viscously, though there was a vulnerability in his eyes. Seeing his deranged father after all these years was one thing, but having to think about his dead mother on top of that was unbearable. Unable to look his father in the face any longer, Peter went to Walter's bedside and tapped the nurse button urgently. "When the hell are those papers getting here?" he muttered to himself.

Walter looked off, as is something horrible was occurring to him. Peter groaned. "What is it now, Walter?"

"They have this…horrible pudding here - this butterscotch pudding on Mondays. It's dreadful."

Peter sighed. "It's Thursday, Walter."

He could see a smile creep onto Walter's face through his thick, stringy beard. "Oh! Isn't that wonderful, Peter?"

"Wonderful? It's fucking spectacular!" he exclaimed sarcastically, just as a young nurse entered the room. "Oh, thank God."

"Here are the final forms you need to sign, Mr Bishop," she said to Peter with a warm smile. "Now, this one is to sign over your father's medical responsibility to St Claire's, and this one is to say we can't be held liable should something go wro -"

"There," he said, handing them all back to her, signed before she even finished explaining them. All he wanted to do was get out of that damn hospital and never see his father again. He pulled out his wallet and gave the nurse a generous tip. "Here you go. I couldn't bear the work you do."

The nurse blushed. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"No need to thank me. You earned that."

The nurse smiled sweetly and nodded, leaving the room. Her reaction was flattering, but for some reason it left a bad taste in Peter's mouth.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Walter commented. "You should ask her on a date!"

"No, Walter."

"Now I know you're upset about Olive, son, but you know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

Peter cringed. "Ugh, Walter, that's enough. You don't have to pretend to be all fatherly and give me any more of your insane advice." He got his coat and headed for the door, turning only to stare down his nose at his father. "My part in this is done. I'm no longer responsible for you. Have a nice life, Walter."

"I really do wish you could stay, son," Walter pleaded softly, his face broken and worn, tears forming in his eyes. "It's been so long since I've had a visitor. So long. The doctors say I don't have to stay here if I'm signed out by a legal guardian, who must be once again a relative…"

Peter staggered. "What are you asking me to...? No! _Guardian_? No. Forget it."

"I do wish you would consider it, son."

"And right now I wish I'd been killed as a foetus, but we don't always get what we want."

"Please."

"WHY?" he roared, fury exploding out of him. "Why should I? I don't owe you a damn thing. You experimented on me, Walter – you hooked me up to car batteries when I was a little kid!" Walter flinched in the shock of his son's outburst. Peter scoffed. "What, you didn't think I would remember that?"

"I don't."

"What?"

"_I_ don't remember that. I remember loving you very dearly as a boy."

"Well maybe that's the reason you're in here, and I'm out there," he spat. Walter swallowed, mumbling and fidgeting nervously. "I've got nothing more to say to you, Walter," Peter breathed heavily and turned away.

"Wait, son," Walter begged softly. "Will you come back and visit me? Before you go back to Albania?"

Peter glared at him, unwavering as he stood, fists clenched, at the door.

"Not a chance."

* * *

"This is beautiful!" Olivia gasped as she pointed to a diamond engagement ring. "What do you think?"

She felt a strong hand on her back as they leaned over the glass, the striking ring standing out to them amongst the vast array of jewellery. "I think you're right. This might be it, Liv."

"Finally! We've been at this for hours and this is the first ring you've thought was halfway good."

"Well excuse me for being a perfectionist. My girl deserves the best."

Olivia laughed. She never thought she'd be looking for engagement jewellery ever in her life but here she was. At first it had been tedious but now she was kind of enjoying it and getting excited, which surprised her to know end.

"Would you like to try it on, Miss?" asked the jeweller.

"Go ahead, Liv."

She accepted the ring from the jeweller and tried it on. "It's comfortable. It actually feels really elegant. What do you think?"

"It looks stunning. I think it's perfect, Liv."

"You think this might be the one?"

"Absolutely. This is it." He turned to the shopkeeper. "How much does this ring cost?"

"It costs $4,800, sir."

Charlie and Olivia exchanged a look.

"Could you give us a moment, please?" Charlie asked the jeweller, who walked away to give them some privacy. Charlie exhaled. "Damn it," he mumbled to Olivia. "It's perfect. Sonya would adore that ring – it's so her. But there's no way I can afford it."

"We'll keep looking around. Maybe we'll find something else," she comforted him, slipping the ring off and placing it in his palm so he could study it.

"I dunno, Liv…I really think this is it."

"If it's a money issue, I can help."

"No. No way. I have to do this myself."

"Just borrow the money. You can pay me back -"

"Liv, the answer's no. I'm not taking a cent from you."

"Not even if I made it my wedding gift to you guys or something?"

"Slow down, Livvy – she's got to say 'yes' yet."

She scoffed. "Give me a break, you know she will."

"Liv…"

"Please," she insisted. "Come on, I know how much you love that girl. If this ring is perfect then Sonya deserves to have it. Swallow your pride and just let me help you out."

He sighed, shaking his head. "It's my job to give her everything she wants, Liv. And I can't. I can't afford this ring."

The jeweller saw from a distance how disappointed Charlie looked and how Olivia was trying to console him. He walked over to them. "Sorry for interrupting – but you two seem like a really sweet couple. Let me talk to my manager and see what we can do for you."

"Oh, thank you," Olivia said, leaning into a slightly shocked Charlie. Not missing a beat, she batted her eyelashes pleadingly and played the part of the doting fiancée. "It's just that we're both students. We've just started our FBI internships over at the Federal Building. Money's been a little tight."

"It's OK, honey," Charlie said dejectedly, catching on to her plan and holding her close in comfort. "We'll keep looking and I'm sure we'll find something we can afford."

"I know," she replied, staring longingly at the ring. "But it's just that we both really fell in love with this one…" She turned back to the jeweller. "I'd really appreciate it if you could speak to your manager – anything you could do for us would really help."

"Of course, Miss. I'll just be a moment."

As he walked away, Charlie gave Olivia a huge, silly grin that she returned. "Not bad, Dunham! You ought to be in the pictures!"

She laughed. "Just wait till we start doing UC stuff at work – that'll be awesome. Quick, he's coming back. Look sad again."

"You got it, _honey_."

The jeweller walked over with his manager in tow, Charlie with an arm around Olivia as they looked to them expectantly. The manager was an old man with a kind but well-worn face. "So you two are the happy couple my assistant here told me about. He said you were both cops?"

"We're FBI Junior Special Agents," Olivia explained. "We just finished our training in Quantico. That's where we met," she added sweetly.

"We just moved here and our internships at the Federal Building don't exactly pay a lot. I'm sorry to ask, sir, but we both really love this ring. We'd really appreciate anything you could do for us."

"May I see some credentials?"

"Sure," they said, pulling out their Junior badges. They only got them made last month and it was so cool they couldn't resist showing them to anyone who asked.

The manager looked upon them sincerely. "My son is a local cop in this area. I know what a tough job it can be." The manager turned to his assistant. "Give them this ring at a 25% discount."

"That makes it $3,600," the assistant explained.

"Wow," Charlie breathed. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."

The manager smiled at them kindly. "Times are tough. It's good to know we have heroes."

So Charlie bought the ring at the cheaper price. He would need a little help paying off his credit card bill that month, but he still left the store overjoyed with the little velvet box held tightly in his hand. He was grinning ear to ear as Olivia gave him a huge hug. "Congratulations, Charlie. You're one step closer to marrying Sonya. When are you going to ask her?"

"I have no idea. Soon, I hope. It was hard enough to convince her to move here with me from New York, so I really have to play my cards right on this one. Thanks for all your help in there. Ring shopping is definitely easier with a girl around – especially when you have about the same size, thank goodness."

"No problem. It's what friends are for, right?" Her phone rang as they walked down the street and she answered it. "Dunham."

"'_Dunham'_? What a professional way to answer the phone, Livia."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Charlie turned back to her, puzzled, and she held up her hand to ask him to wait as she walked off a little for privacy. "Peter?"

"Didn't think you'd be hearing from me so soon, huh?"

"Well, you're on the other side of the planet, so not exactly."

"Not anymore, I'm not. I'm in Cambridge."

"Cambridge? Why?"

He groaned a little. "My father."

"Since when do you see your father?"

"Long story. But I'm not far from Boston, so…" She heard how he sighed across the distance. "I want to see you, Livia."

She baulked, all her old guilt resurfacing at once. She was still grappling with the decision of whether or not to see him when Peter sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. Forget I said anything. Take care of yourself, Olivia," he said soberly, preparing to hang up.

"No, Peter, wait," she protested. "How long are you in town for?"

"I don't know yet."

She sighed. "Let me think about it, OK? This is all kind of sudden." She rubbed her eyes, hearing only silence on the other end. "That wasn't a "no", Peter."

"It wasn't a yes, either."

"I'll call you. I promise."

"Yeah. Alright." Then he hung up.

She turned back to Charlie, shock written all over her face.

"Livvy, what's going on?"

She swallowed. "That was Peter. He's on his way to Boston."

"Today?"

She nodded, trying to quell the knotting of her stomach. "He wants to see me, but I told him I'd think about it. I just don't know what I'd say to him…I broke his heart, Charlie. If he saw me again, he could react really badly."

"You don't know that. He could just be really happy to see you. You won't know unless you go speak to him. You want my advice? Call him back."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. You think a few months pass and everything you guys went through goes away? When you see him, just be honest and try to make the most of it. Don't fight it. Don't beat yourself up. You know, you're good at that. That's a character flaw. It'll get easier."

Olivia looked doubtful, still trying to process all the possible outcomes of meeting Peter. She nodded, steeling herself. She was a Junior Federal Agent in the toughest division of the FBI. Surely she could talk to an ex-boyfriend. Her body still tense, she pulled out her phone and dialled Peter's number. Peter answered almost immediately.

"That was quick," was his smug reply.

Her words got stuck in her throat. She was hesitant to see him again, but she knew she couldn't turn down the chance. It was _Peter_. "OK. I'll meet you. When?"

"Sometime soon. Today, if you can do it."

"Wow. That is soon."

"I don't want to give you a chance to change your mind again. I can be in Boston in an hour."

"Well, I'm headed to the Federal Building. I'll meet you outside, say 5pm?"

"Sure thing. See you soon then, Livia."

"Yeah," she breathed, hanging up.

**Stay tuned for Part 2! Coming soon…**

**Please review!**


	32. Epilogue: Boston Part 2

**Here we go! Last chapter of The Academy ever (though some people are begging me for a sequel already)! Thank you so much to everyone who read it, I appreciate it so much. And your reviews were so encouraging – thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**God bless you all : )**

**Let me give you a super speedy recap of the story so far…**

Olivia goes to Quantico for FBI training. Charlie is her roommate. They go to the Whitehorse and meet students John, Astrid, Charlie, Kent, Brandon and Amy. Olivia meets cool bartender Peter. The Academy is tough. Olivia gets homesick. Peter makes her a drink. Lucas dumps Olivia. John likes Olivia. Olivia likes John. Peter likes Olivia. Creepy teacher Harris likes her, too – that's not good. John almost kisses Olivia. Peter walks in. Everyone goes bowling. Peter and Olivia try cow tipping. Rachael gets married. John, Olivia, Charlie and Astrid get in a car accident. John and Olivia kiss. John goes back to Baltimore. Harris threatens Olivia. Olivia gets a creepy card on her birthday. Peter and Olivia almost kiss. Charlie and Peter give her a surprise party. Olivia kisses Peter. Peter and Olivia start dating and swim on Akim's farm. Observers foresee trouble. Harris attacks Olivia. Olivia fights back. Peter gets mad. Olivia and Peter date again, but struggle to make things work. Students have exams. Harris goes to court. Olivia testifies. Peter and Olivia fight. Peter comes back. Harris testifies. Harris goes to jail. Everybody goes camping. Peter tells Olivia he loves her. Olivia freaks out. The students get results. Olivia learns about Fringe Division and meets Nina Sharp. Olivia breaks up with Peter. Peter is pissed. The students graduate. Peter and Olivia fight, then sleep together. Olivia leaves Peter. She also leaves a note saying she loves him too. Four months later, Peter is back in town when Walter gets sick, but is still very angry at him. Olivia helps Charlie prepare to propose to Sonya. Peter calls Olivia. They decide to reunite…

**And that brings us to the final chapter of The Academy…hope you enjoy : )**

**References: lines from The Arrival, The Pilot, The Dreamscape, In Which We Meet Mr Jones**

Olivia spotted Peter walking across the road long before he ever noticed her. He looked rugged - like he'd seen too much. Doubts twisted her stomach, but she did her best to remind herself to make the most of this conversation. The last thing she wanted was for them to see each other after all this time only to fight again. She hesitantly rose from the bench she'd been sitting on outside the Federal Building, walking to meet him. When he saw her, the darkness she saw in his eyes left him, replaced only by warmth.

She smiled thinly, approaching him awkwardly. For a second or so they stood there, not quite knowing what was appropriate. "Hey," he finally murmured, pulling her into a gentle embrace. At first she froze, but it didn't take her long to hug him back. It shocked her how good it felt to be in his arms again after all this time – how _right_. But that only made her feel even guiltier about leaving him, and she already had more guilt than she could deal with. His warm jacket smelled earthy, like rain – just as he always did. She'd forgotten all those little details. Part of her couldn't even believe he was real, even as he planted an uncertain kiss on her cheek as he pulled away. "I wasn't sure you'd be here," he confessed.

She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry I was so undecided before. It wasn't very fair to you."

"No, it wasn't. But I understand." He looked her over; taking in the way her hair was tied back messily in a bun and the fact that she was wearing a pant suit. He smiled. "You look professional. Tired, though. Hard day at work?"

To his surprise she almost laughed. "You have no idea. I only had to go to a briefing this morning but then Charlie and I had to go shopping for hours - it was such an ordeal. Then it was back to the Federal Building." Still unable to quell her nerves, she distracted herself and started picking nervously at a bandaid on her arm as she spoke.

Peter smirked, noticing it. "Stapler attack?" he joked.

She smiled. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as she'd thought. "I had to get my blood drawn again today – just before you got here. All agents are required to set up a backup blood supply in case we're wounded."

"In that case, you need to rehydrate. Can I get you a coffee? Something to eat, maybe?"

She nodded. "There's a little café in the park a couple of blocks away. But I'm paying."

"Oh no, Livia, not this time." He laughed, remembering all the fights they used to have about paying for dates – even though this wasn't a date at all, just a reunion between old friends.

She smiled wistfully and they began walking down the street together. Their hands hung beside their bodies, brushing occasionally as they walked. It was all they could do not to grasp the other's hand, but they were afraid to. Olivia pulled hers from that zone of proximity and wrapped her arms around herself again nervously. Her head was whirling at full velocity, trying to process the suddenness of it all. She stopped in the middle of the street. Peter turned back immediately, looking to her questioningly.

She met his eyes regretfully. "I'm sorry, Peter, but I have to ask: am I the reason you're here? I asked you not to follow me."

"I didn't," he said honestly. She could see that it hurt him to say it, but knew also that he respected her enough to keep the promise he made to her that last night. Then his tone turned defensive. "I'm here for Walter. But you also asked me to give you a call if I was ever in Boston - so don't make me out to be the bad guy here."

"I didn't mean it like that." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Things have changed, Peter. I've changed."

"Yeah, I can see that." He turned away from her, started walking again. She followed.

"So have you," she noticed, taking in the darkness that wore the skin around his eyes. "You look older."

She was surprised when that made him laugh. "Older? When my father first saw me, he told me he thought I'd be fatter, but I got to tell you-older actually kind of hurts."

"Peter," she pulled on his arm gently, slowing him down. "What's going on with your father?"

He looked at his feet as they hit the concrete. "He's sick, Livia. They called me in Cape Town to get me back here. I had to make some medical decisions for him because I'm his next of kin."

"Is he going to be OK?"

"Walter's fine." Peter debated with himself how much more he should say, but he reminded himself that he may as well bare all – he didn't know if Olivia would want to see him again after this, or when he was even leaving Boston. All he knew was that this could be his last chance to speak to her face to face in a long time – maybe ever. "I was planning to visit an old friend in New York or just keep travelling, but Walter wants me to stay here with him – become his guardian so he doesn't have to live in the hospital any more."

"How long's he been there?" Olivia asked delicately.

"Twelve years."

"That's horrible," she whispered.

"It's no less than the man deserves," Peter seethed. "He can stay there till he's dead in the ground for all I care. Somebody else can look after him. There's nothing special about me."

She smiled dryly. "You're his son."

"It's not that simple, Livia."

She bit her tongue, knowing that Walter was a sensitive issue for Peter. But she couldn't help the tears that started to form in her eyes at the reminder of hospitals. She blinked them away and her body tensed as she toughed it out. She'd become good at that since starting her work at the FBI. She learned very quickly that it was counterproductive to show the slightest vulnerability or weakness.

But as usual, Peter saw through it all. At the very least, it was one thing about him that hadn't changed. "What's on your mind, Livia?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking about everything that's changed since I saw you last." She left him with that vague answer as they reached the café and ordered.

"How's the internship going?" he asked as they found a table.

"It's pretty unbelievable. We haven't actually started working much yet. The last few months I've just been doing training workshops and shadowing other agents so I can see how they do things. We've had to pass a whole lot of assessments – it's just like at the Academy, only now we get to see the work in practise. I passed my interrogation simulation test yesterday. They had these actors come in with hypothetical cases and we had to drill them for confessions. I've watched the agents I'm shadowing do it for weeks – they make it look so easy. I don't know… It's all been a little crazy. I love every minute of it, but it's challenging. Broyles certainly isn't an easy boss to impress. The stuff we investigate…it blows my mind, Peter. It horrifies me sometimes, but it's more rewarding than anything else I've ever even heard of. I don't start actual probationary work for another few weeks – that's when I get to work my first case, with an older agent of course. I'm so excited," she beamed. The waitress came over and brought them their coffees, interrupting her. Olivia realised she had been ranting and chuckled to herself in slight embarrassment, taking a sip of her coffee.

He smiled gently. She was adorable when she got so inspired and passionate about something, but that's the way she'd always been.

"How was South Africa?" she asked.

"Good for a while. I had to leave. Things got out of control," he explained vaguely. "At least Walter's offering me an excuse to stay in Boston, right?"

She only nodded, trying to ignore the subtext of what he meant by that. Was he looking for a reason to stay for _her_?

"So what else has changed, Livia?" he asked gently. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Her head shot up, eyes narrowed. "Is that really what you came to ask me? Is that what this is about?"

"Of course not. I'm just curious."

"No," she said simply, though there was a hint of spite in her voice. "But I don't see what difference it makes. You and I are done, remember?"

"Yeah," he said coldly, visibly stung. "I remember."

Seeing him hurt made her immediately regret what she'd said. This whole meeting had been turbulent – she couldn't tell if she wanted him to stay or leave. He couldn't tell if he wanted to kiss her or scream.

Olivia sighed, holding her head in her hands. "Peter, maybe you shouldn't have come here." His only response was silence. Somehow she brought her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry about what happened between us, Peter. To be honest, I'm really ashamed of how I treated you. I could have tried harder. I knew it was wrong, but in my head I thought it was wrong for the right reasons, you know?"

"You don't have to explain, Livia. You've already told me everything." He took a breath, looking to her in concern. "What happened Olivia? There's something that has shifted in you. Something's happened."

"Well, it's been four months, Peter. A lot has happened. You know, it's been a strange time."

He knew her too well than to accept that as her response. Whenever things were tough, she got quiet and dealt with it on her own. But he wasn't going to let her get away with it that day. "What made you upset earlier? When we were walking here? You looked like you were going to cry."

She visibly tensed before him, though she tried to hide it. "Forget it. It's nothing I can't handle. I'm just a little tired," she explained, brushing it off. But instinctively she reached for the cross around her neck, and he knew.

"It's your Mum, isn't it?"

Knowing she couldn't lie to him, Olivia conceded in a nod. "She's at Boston General. The cancer's back - worse this time. She's fighting hard, but…" She shrugged and smiled wryly, trying to shake off her pain. "It looks like it'll get the best of her, sooner or later."

"I'm sorry, Livia," he said honestly, his heart breaking with worry for her. He knew she was strong, but nobody should have to lose their mother at 23.

"It's not anyone's fault. It's genetic. There's nothing we can do about it." Olivia furiously blinked away tears, smoothing back the bits of hair that had fallen out of her bun. She took a deep breath, rubbing her tired eyes. "We can only make the best of the time we have. And look after Rachael."

"She's not handling it well?"

"Well, she's younger, so it's harder on her. But it's not just that." She looked up at him, and he could see the tension in her loosening just a little. "She's pregnant."

Finally a tiny smile graced her face. It wasn't much, but Peter could see the gentle glow that came to her when she said it. "Little Rachael Dunham's pregnant? I don't believe it!" he teased lightly.

"It's true!" she laughed, that tiny smile broadening. "Three months. She's so happy, and so is Greg. I went to one of her scans with her the other day, it was amazing – we could hear the heartbeat and everything. I mean, it's too soon to tell, but I have this gut feeling that it's a girl."

"Well, your gut's usually right, but we'll see."

"Their favourite name at the moment is Ella."

"Ella," he echoed, testing it on his tongue. "It's nice."

She nodded, and they fell into a small silence again. Her smile faded a little, knowing he still needed answers after everything that happened. "What else do you want to know, Peter?" she asked softly.

"I'm not sure," he confessed. "I think of you all the time, but now that we're here, I'm lost for words. You're different."

"So are you."

"Am I?"

"I know you're not talking much about South Africa, or about Walter – but it sounds like it's been a rough time. You seem darker than you were."

He wryly chuckled slightly. "Yeah," he breathed. "I guess I am."

Another silence.

"Peter, what did you come here to ask me?"

"All I ever wanted to know was that you were OK, but now I feel stupid for wondering. You can survive anything." He paused, the questions on his heart emerging and coming to light. "Did you ever think of me? The last four months?"

She smiled sincerely, but there was regret in it. "Peter…You know I did." She sighed. "Even before we were together, you were one of the best friends I've ever had. Second only to Charlie, maybe. I mean this work I'm doing now is insane and horrifying most of the time – but in the midst of it all I still have days where I really miss you."

That shook him. After how things ended, he was sure she would have forgotten all about him by now and started to move on. But clearly she was just as lost without his weight on her back as he was without hers on his, even if it was to a different degree. "What do you miss?" he asked.

"I just miss _us_, I guess. But all that's a long way gone, now." She smiled wistfully, thinking about it. "What do you miss? What are the things you really remember?"

He grinned, but there was a nostalgic sadness in his eyes. "I miss your card tricks," he joked, even though it was true. "I miss how you could drink me under the table even on your worst night. I miss the way I used to be able to feel you smile when you kissed me, especially when it was all new - like the time we made that awful pasta and went swimming at Akim's place. I miss how you used to get mad at me whenever I did something nice for you or got protective. You know, the look on your face when you came out on to the rooftop for your birthday dinner…" He started laughing. "You were so pissed. But you were gracious as always and thanked me anyway."

She laughed too, reflecting on the memory. "I thanked you because I was wondering in my head why two great guys like you and Charlie would ever waste your time putting all that together for someone like me."

He sobered a bit, levelling with her. "That's something I don't miss. You made me work bloody hard to convince you to let me in – that you _were_ worth the effort. You weren't an easy person to love, Livia." His voice cracked a little, and he flicked his eyes away from her briefly – the simple gesture piercing her with guilt over how she'd left him. "But I loved you anyway."

"But you don't love me anymore." It wasn't a judgement or an accusation – just an observation. After four months of being apart and her breaking his heart, it made sense.

But instead he shook his head. "Part of me still does – I don't know that it'll ever stop. But it's not what it used to be. It's weird, it seems like…I don't know…like seeing you again is bringing it all back to me. Talking to you today...it's been a whirlwind." She looked down, biting her lip. He tentatively tipped a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me the truth, Olivia," he said gently. "Did you mean what you said? In that note?"

He could not describe the relief he felt when she nodded. But he still had to ask: "Do you still love me?"

She swallowed, looking away. "I don't know," she confessed. "As a friend of course I do, but as for anything else – probably not. I think after everything I'm just too scared to. But you'll always be my friend. I hope that, whatever you choose to do with your father, that never changes."

He reluctantly pulled his hand away. "We really had it tough, though, didn't we? I guess we were just unlucky. But 'friends' sounds good to me."

"Friends," she nodded, noticing for the first time in their long conversation that the sun was setting. "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" she asked tenderly. "Rach and I just got an apartment in Brighton. Mum's living at the hospital now so we sold the house to help pay for everything. We can make up the guest room for you if you need a place to sleep – you know, until you figure out whether or not you're staying in Boston with Walter. I know you're probably in a hurry to skip off to New York or Mexico or something, though."

He was touched by the gesture. "Thank you, but I'm OK for now. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."

There was that charming smile again – after all this time, it still made her blush just a little, but it didn't last very long. "Listen," she said, checking her watch. "I have to go pick up Rach soon. She's with Mum. But we'll be making dinner at home around 7, if you want to come over? Just so you have some company tonight?"

"I'd like that."

She scribbled her new address onto a napkin for him as they stood and left the café, walking to the end of the park where it met the street. The light in the sky was burning down to dusk, the streetlamps illuminating the city in the low light. Olivia turned to face him on the street corner. "It wasn't easy for me to meet with you today," she admitted. "But I'm really glad you called me."

"Yeah. Me too."

She unwrapped her arms from holding herself and placed her hands together on the centre of his chest. She blinked and leaned in hesitantly, flicking her eyes to his before tentatively placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "It was really nice to see you again, Peter."

"You, too. I'll see you tonight."

"Seven."

He nodded. "Seven."

She gave him a demure smile, stepping away. She tossed one more over her shoulder as she walked down the street, knowing that he'd be watching her go. He was overwhelmed with every emotion his mind could muster. He felt elated. He felt terrified. He felt strong, like he could breathe smoke. But more than anything, he looked around the streets of Boston and felt already like this was where he was meant to be. Wherever she was, he would follow. Because he belonged with her.

In that moment he made the most important decision of his life. He had no idea that it would one day influence the survival of the universe, but he made it anyway. He decided that he was going to stay in Boston for a little while, even if he had to look after Walter as an excuse for why. The chance to win Olivia back was worth the cost. He would fight for her, no matter how scared she got or how much she resisted him. He swore to himself that he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. This time, he was not going to let her go.

He took a deep breath and smiled to himself, on the verge of laughter. He had another chance with Olivia. The very idea of it blew his mind wide open. They were just friends again now, but maybe, just maybe, they could one day be together again, even better than what they once were. He looked down at her address in his hand with reverence and gratitude, holding it fast in the hollow of his palm. Tucking his hands into his pockets for warmth, he explored the streets of Olivia's city in the dusk as he waited for 7pm to come, walking like he was soon to own the world.

**Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts not only on this chapter but on other parts of the fic you liked.**

**On the note of a sequel – the answer is "maybe". I'd like to, but I'm not sure I can be bothered. This one was a lot of work to write! Also, I'm going away to visit family soon, so the soonest I could start writing it would be about late January. By then you guys will have probably lost interest anyway. **

**Thanks again for reading The Academy. God bless. **


	33. Author Announcement

Hey guys, me again. Just wanted to announce that yes, there will be a sequel to The Academy! The plan is done and I've started writing it, but it'll be published next year, probably late January after I get back from the US. I'm leaving on Wednesday so I can't write much before I leave - I just thought some of you would like to know it was happening.

There's a lot going on in this next story. Peter's back in Boston trying to get a job, form some kind of relationship with Walter and work his way back into Olivia's life. Meanwhile, Olivia and Charlie are both about to start their first cases as probationary special agents with their new partners. Olivia has to learn to balance work and family as she struggles with the stresses of her new job while supporting Rachael through her pregnancy as well as looking after her sick mother. Peter and Olivia are friends again, trying to make amends for the months of distance between them.

But when ZFT starts carrying mysteriously fatal experiments and running some major organised crime in Boston, everyone – including Peter and Walter - is dragged into the investigation. Everything starts spinning out of control as Peter and Olivia face their hardest trials yet, and they must find their way back to each other if they're ever going to survive the chaos.

If I say any more I'll give away the whole story, so I'm shutting up now. Stay tuned, folks! Sequel coming soon…


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